Rose Potter and the Two Faced Man
by nobodez
Summary: ON HIATUS. Divergence: a subtly different prophecy is given, and the world is better for it. Fem!Harry
1. Chapter 1

The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling.

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><p>"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…<p>

Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…

And the Dark Lord will mark _them_ as his equal, but _they_ will have power the Dark Lord knows not…

And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"

- Prophecy made to Albus Dumbledore by Sybill Trelawney

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><p>"di•verge | di'vərj; dī- |<p>

verb [intrans.]

1 (of a road, route, or line) separate from another route, esp. a main one, and go in a different direction.

• develop in a different direction

• (of an poinion, theory, approach, etc.) differ markedly

• deviate from a set course or standard"

- Definition of "diverge"

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><p>"It's a girl," the midwife said. With a swish of her wand the blood that covered the newborn girl was cleaned away. She was then wrapped in a soft blanket and handed to her mother.<p>

"Hello," said Lily to her daughter.

"Hi there little one," said James, leaning down and pointing at her chest. She reached out and softly grabbed his finger.

The new parents smiled.

"Have you picked out a name?" asked the midwife to the Potters.

Lily looked at her daughter, then to her husband, and finally to the midwife, "Yes. Her name is Rose."

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><p>Lily ran down the hall, clutching her daughter to her chest. She could hear the battle between her husband and the Dark Lord behind her, but she did not slow, could not slow. He wanted her daughter, he wanted Rose.<p>

Suddenly the hallway was illuminated with a bright green light, and then the only sound Lily could hear was Rose's crying and the panting of her own breath as she ran.

"Come now," the Dark Lord hissed, "Just give me the girl. Your husband didn't have to die tonight, and neither do you."

Lily dived through the doorway, rolling as she hit the floor to protect her daughter, and with a flick of her wand, the door closed and locked behind her.

"Surely you don't think a simple door could stop me?" the Dark Lord gloated, as the door glowed a bright red and then exploded into the bedroom.

Lily sat in the corner of the room, her left arm cradling her daughter, her right extended towards the Dark Lord, "Not Rose, please, don't kill her. Take me, kill me instead."

The Dark Lord shook his head slowly, his yew wand held loosely in his left hand, "This is my last warning."

Lily clutched Rose to her chest, "Not Rose! Please… have mercy… Not Rose! Please" she pleaded, tears in her eyes, "I'll do anything."

The Dark Lord smiled thinly, gripped his wand tightly, and with a baleful glare, "Avada Kedavra!" Lily Potter dropped her wand, and slumped over her daughter, dead.

The Dark Lord, his thin smile growing, adjusted his wand's aim.

The rising wail of a young girl crying was cut off as the house around her exploded.

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><p>Professor McGonall asked Headmaster Dumbledore, "I don't suppose you're going to tell me why we're, of all places, Albus?"<p>

"I've come to bring young Rose to her Aunt and Uncle. They're the only family she's got left," said Albus Dumbledore.

"You can't seriously mean that?" Minerva McGonagall asked the Headmaster of Hogwarts School if Witchcraft and Wizardry. She gestured at the two-story house she'd been watching all day in her animagus form, "Albus, you can't. I've been watching them, and you can't find a pair of people who are as unlike us as possible. They've got this little boy, a little monster. He was kicking his mother all the way down the street to the park, screaming for candy. Surely little Rose Potter can't live here?" She sighed as she read the impassive face of her colleague.

"It's the best place for her," said Albus calmly. "Her aunt and uncle, they'll explain everything to her when she gets older." He took a letter, sealed with wax, from inside of his cloak, "I've written a letter."

"A letter?" asked McGonagall incredulously. "Really Albus, you think you explain everything, all of this in a letter? Those people," she gestured at the unremarkable house, "they'll never understand her! She'll be famous, is famous. It wouldn't surprise me that, someday, today would be known as Rose Potter Day! They'll be books written about her, stories told, she'll be a legend before she gets to Hogwarts. Every child will know her name."

Albus nodded and breathed deeply, "Exactly. It would be enough to inflate a young girl's head. Famous before she could walk or talk, for something she'd not even remember! No," he said, shaking his head. "'Tis a far better thing that she grow up here, live a normal life, or as normal as she can, until she's ready for all the fame and attention."

McGonagall opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, then closed it. Then opened it a second time, closed it again. On the third attempt, she finally said something with a sigh, "Yes, yes, of course, you're right. But how is she getting here?" McGonagall eyed the old wizard's cloak as if there was a chance he was hiding a fifteen month old baby girl under it.

"Hagrid's bringing her," said Dumbledore proudly.

McGonagall looked surprised in the dim light of the street, "You think it wise to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I'd trust Hagrid with my life," the Headmaster said resolutely.

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><p>The glass tumbler lived up to it's name before hitting the wall and shattering into hundreds of pieces, "I don't want that freak in my house!" Vernon Dursley huffed as he picked up another glass from the kitchen counter.<p>

Petunia Dursley did not flinch as the second glass hit the wall, inches closer than the first, and a mere hand's breadth from her head, "She's staying. We're the only family she has."

"And what happened to that family? What happened to your sister and her good for nothing husband?" asked Vernon.

"They're dead," said Petunia flatly. They'd both read the letter than had come with their niece that morning. They'd both read about what had happened to Lily, and what had happened to the house around little Rose, who looked almost exactly like her mother, save her father's dark brown eyes. That resemblance is what had turned Petunia from her former loathing of everything related to her sister. She had remembered the look on Lily's face when the letter had come, how she'd asked her sister why Lily could have magic and she couldn't. The feeling of betrayal, of envy. Well, now she'd been given a second chance, a second chance to do the right thing, to not push Rose away like she'd done to Lily. "They died saving Rose, and you read what Dumbledore wrote, that Rose survived whatever killed them."

"I don't know why she couldn't have died with them," spat Vernon. "They did the world a favor by dieing, why couldn't they have done one more by taking their little spawn with them?"

Petunia grew even colder. She loved her husband, knew that they'd have a family, already they had little Dudley, and that they'd grow old together. She hadn't counted on Rose. "What'd you have done with her? Left back out in the cold to freeze to death? Sent to an orphanage? What?"

"Anything!" shouted Vernon. "Anywhere but here! I'll not have a _freak_ like that living under my roof."

"Okay, if that's what you want," began Petunia, stepping towards her husband. He smiled in victory, before frowning as he read his wife's expression. "Then she'll not be under your roof, and neither will I. Nor your precious Dudley either. If she goes, so do I, and if I go, so does your son. So, what'll it be?"

Vernon looked into his wife's eyes as she stopped right in front of him.

"Package deal Vernon, you either accept your niece as a member of this family, or you spend the rest of your life alone."


	2. Chapter 2

The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling.

**Note:** References in the story have pushed the date forwards from July 1991 to no earlier than July 2000. Also, I am looking for a Beta for this and my other two stories, PM if interested.

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><p>The sound of the mail flap and the smack of the letters on the doormat interrupted breakfast.<p>

"Mail's here," said Dudley, munching on his bacon.

"Go get the mail Dudley," said his father from behind the paper.

"Make Rose get the mail," replied Dudley, making a face at his cousin since his father couldn't see.

"Go get the mail Rose," said her uncle from behind his paper.

"Make Dudley get the mail," she replied, answering Dudley's face with one of her own.

"Children," came the stern reproach from the kitchen. Dudley and Rose both turned to see Petunia, his mother and her aunt, glaring at them, her gaze slowly shifting from one to the other.

"I'll get it," said Rose quickly, jumping out of the chair.

"No," countered Dudley. He stuck out her Smelting stick in Rose's path as he got out of his chair, "I'll get the mail."

Rose tripped, but then tucked into a roll, her plaited auburn hair flying behind her. Her experience was from the gymnastics classes that her aunt Petunia had persuaded her uncle Vernon to enroll her in for her ninth birthday, and continued towards the door. She let out a raspberry to her cousin as he got to the mail before he even finished getting out of his chair.

"I didn't want to get the mail anyway," said Dudley in a huff, then returned to his seat and his breakfast.

Rose sorted through the pieces of mail as she strolled back into the kitchen. A letter from her aunt Marge, well, Dudley's aunt since she was Rose's uncle's sister, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight. Rose had never liked Marge, and the feeling, she knew, was mutual. There was also a fat envelope that looked like a bill, and a third envelope, thick and yellow, with green writing, and it was, surprisingly, addressed to her.

She had friends, but they never wrote her, even when they took vacations, and they'd never send anything in a yellow envelope, especially one without a stamp. She always returned her books prompt to the library, so it wasn't from them, and even the warning that they sent to Dudley were in plain white envelopes, and had stamps. She didn't have another other family, at least, none that her aunt Petunia had told her about, but she admitted that she'd never been close to her brother-in-law, and even then, who'd send her an envelope with a stamp on it.

"What taking you so long?" asked Dudley, who looked over his shoulder at her.

Rose shook her head and looked up from the yellow envelope, "Sorry, just, well, I got a letter."

"A letter?" asked Dudley, intrigued. As he got up from the table neither her nor Rose saw the looks that passed between Petunia and Vernon.

"Yeah, weird," said Rose, showing the letter to Dudley. "No stamp or anything, and the address, pretty specific."

"Ms. R. Potter, The smallest bedroom, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry," said Dudley, reading off the address. "That is weird, there's no post code."

"The post code, that's the first thing that you noticed? Not the fact that it's not a paper envelope? I think it's parchment. And look here," Rose said, flipping over the envelope. "This, who uses wax to seal envelopes?"

The two cousins were interrupted in their inspection by Petunia clearing her throat.

Rose and Dudley book looked up, a guilty look on their faces.

Petunia smiled, "Oh, your not in trouble, it'll just be easier to explain in here." She gestured the two children, one eleven, the other nearly so, into the dining room.

They took their seats, as Petunia took her's next to her husband, who had folded his paper. Rose thought that her uncle Vernon looked rather uncomfortable, but didn't say anything.

"So, aren't you going to open it?" asked Petunia, gesturing at the envelope that Rose as put on the table.

"Oh," said Rose. She carefully cracked the wax seal, and then removed two sheets of folded parchment, the same pale yellow as the envelope. She opened them and then lost her breath.

"What's it say?" asked Dudley, reaching for the top sheet that Rose as nearly let drop from her fingers.

"Stop," said Vernon tersely. "Those are your cousin's letters, not yours. Did she take your acceptance letter from Smeltings?"

"No," said Dudley, a shameful blush crossing his face.

"Hogwarts," said Rose softly. She looked up at her aunt and uncle. Vernon had the same nearly neutral expression that he had on whenever dealing with Rose, but Petunia's face was awash with conflicting emotions of joy, envy, and sadness. "Didn't you say my mum and dad went to Hogwarts?" she asked.

Petunia nodded, "Yes, and now, so will you. Haven't you wondered why we didn't get you your uniform for Stonewall High?"

Rose shrugged, "I didn't think I'd need one."

"Well?" asked Dudley. "Come on, I want to hear!" He pointed at the letter.

Rose picked up the letter. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She paused as she saw her uncle fail to repress his wince, but continued. "Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore. Order of Merlin, First Class. Grand Sorc, I guess that means Sorcerer? Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mug… Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards." She looked up from the parchment, "Wow, you weren't lying Aunt Petunia. Funny titles though."

"What's a Mugwump?" asked Dudley, mouthing the strange word over.

Rose shrugged, "Hell if I know."

"Language!" chorused Petunia and Vernon in harmony.

Rose blushed, "Sorry." At a smile and gesture from her aunt, she continued. "Dear Ms. Potter, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September first. We await you owl no later than July thirty-first. Yours Sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress."

"Owl?" asked Dudley.

"It's how wizards communicate, like the Royal Mail," explained Petunia. "Lily was always getting owls from her friends when she was at Hogwarts." A wave of sadness washed over her face.

"I'll write," offered Rose. "Ever day if you want me to." She'd grown up with stories of her mother's adventurers at Hogwarts, and knew how much her aunt Petunia had both wanted to go, and had eventually regretted pushing her sister away.

"No, you won't," said Petunia, wiping an errant tear from her face, "But try to write if anything interesting happens, will you?"

"Okay," said Rose with a smile. She got up from her chair and after a step and a half, hugged her aunt. "I love you Aunt Petunia."

Petunia twisted in her seat, and hugged her niece right back, "I love you too Rose."

After releasing the hug, Rose went back to her seat. "How'm I supposed to 'owl' them back? Don't they know I live here?"

"Well," said Petunia, thinking out load, "Since your mother and father were wizards, well, witch and wizard, they had owls. The letter was probably written when you were born, and they just sent you the standard letter."

"Oh," said Rose with a sigh.

"What about Mrs. Figg?" asked Dudley.

"What about her?" asked Petunia.

"Well, she's got an owl," he said. "I saw it come to her house last week."

"You think she's a witch?" asked Rose.

"Well, it couldn't hurt to ask," offered Petunia. After a grunt from her husband, she added, "Discretely of course. Wouldn't want to call attention to ourselves." She smirked. Rose returned to smirk, having heard the stories from her aunt about how her mother had had to keep the wizarding world secret.

Rose then turned over the first sheet of parchment and looked at the long list of books and 'equipment' she'd need for her first year at Hogwarts. "Robes? Pointed hats? Broomsticks?" She chuckled, "I guess I really am a witch."

Dudley smirked, "She's a witch! Burn her, burn her!" He jumped out of her chair, pointing with his Smeltings stick. "She turned me into a newt!" At the glare from all the people seated at the table, he added, "I got better."

The table, aside from the stoic Vernon, was quickly reduced into a fit of laughter (from Dudley) and giggles (from Petunia and Rose).

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><p>Later, than afternoon, Petunia escorted Rose down the street to Mrs. Figg's house. Rose had only been there a couple of times, along with Dudley, when her aunt and uncle had to leave and couldn't take the children with them. She never really liked it, since it smelt of cabbage and cats, neither of which were Rose's favorite scents. After a gentle knocking at the door, Mrs. Figg opened it, though he paused to shoo one of her cats away from the opening, "Ah, Petunia, and young Rose, what can I help you with today?"<p>

"Um…" stammered Rose. She looked up at her aunt, swallowed, then looked back at Mrs. Figg, "Um, can I use your owl?"

"My owl?" asked Mrs. Figg, surprised.

"Um, Dudley said he saw you had an owl, and the letter said I had to reply by the end of the month, and we haven't got an owl," said Rose, very quickly and without taking a breath.

"Oh, you got your Hogwarts letter then?" asked Mrs. Figg with a smile.

Rose looked surprised, "You know about Hogwarts? Did you go? What's it like? Aunt Petunia never got to go, so she'd only been able to tell me what my mum told her when she went, and since mum and aunt Petunia didn't get along, it's not very much." Again, the response was over quickly and in a single breath.

"Excited isn't she?" asked Mrs. Figg go Petunia.

Petunia smiled, "We both are. I admit, I never got along with my sister, I was jealous, but, well, I hope that Rose can forgive me." She squeezed her niece's shoulder.

Rose looked up at her aunt, "Of course I forgive you. If you hadn't taken me in, where would I have gone?" She looked back at Mrs. Figg, "So?"

Mrs. Figg smiled, "Well, I'm sorry, but I can't tell you about Hogwarts, as I didn't go."

Rose slumped, defeated.

"But, I can let you use Artemis, my owl. I'm surprised Professor Dumbledore sent you the standard letter. He knows you don't have an owl," added Mrs. Figg.

Rose smiled. "You know the Headmaster?" she asked expectantly.

"Well, he did ask me to look after you," she admitted. She looked to Petunia, "Not that he thought you'd not treat her right, but in case something happened and he was needed. Luckily none of those Death Eaters," she said the title with obvious distain, "knew enough about the muggle world to even look in a phone book, so it's been pretty quiet."

"What's a muggle?" asked Rose.

"Well…" began Mrs. Figg, looking to Petunia.

"Muggles are non-magical people, at least, that's what the wizarding world calls us," explained Petunia. "Your mum, she was a target at school, and afterwards, because she was muggle-born. Your father loved her anyway."

"That's a silly word," said Rose with a disdainful look. "Why have a word for normal people? There's already a word, it's called 'normal'."

Mrs. Figg chuckled. "Little Flower," she began, using the nickname she'd given to Rose when she'd first stayed with her, "you'll come to find that a great many wizards and witches are silly people. They think things like blood purity mean something. They're afraid of muggles, or normal people, and for good reason."

"Why?" asked Rose, confused. "They can do magic! How can they be afraid of normal people?"

"How many witches and wizards do you know?" asked Mrs. Figg.

"Um, just you I guess," replied Rose.

Mrs. Figg shook her head, "No, I'm not a witch. I'm what's called a squib, at least, that's what they call me. It means I can't use magic, even though my parents were magical." She got a sad look on her face. "But, as I was trying to say, everyone you know is normal. You've probably never met a witch or wizard before in your life. They'll probably be a hundred or so in your class at Hogwarts. And that's for all of the British Isles, Ireland too. Even though witches and wizards live longer, there's not that many of them. So, they're outnumbered. One witch or wizard can easily defeat a single normal person. Perhaps, even, a dozen. But a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand? No, they know that for all their magical powers, they'll forever be but a small minority of the rest of the population, and so, they're afraid of normal people. And fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate."

"And hate leads to suffering," continued Rose. "I've seen the Phantom Menace." The not quite eleven year old witch rolled her eyes.

Petunia shrugged, as if saying, 'what can I do?'

"Not quite where I was going, but indeed, the hate that wizards feel towards normal people has lead to suffering, mostly from the so called 'muggle-born' witches and wizards." She looked to Petunia, "How much have you told her?"

"About?" asked Petunia.

"How her parents died," replied Mrs. Figg softly.

"I'm right here you know," said Rose precociously. "My parents were killed by an evil wizard, who died when he tried to kill me." She pointed at the lightning-bolt shaped scar above her right eye, "He failed, giving me this scar."

"The man," began Mrs. Figg with a shiver, "He didn't just give you that scar, but disappeared afterwards. Most, that is, most witches and wizards, say he died, but Dumbledore didn't think so. That's why he had me stay here and warn him if anything happened."

"Oh," said both Petunia and Rose in unison.

"He didn't tell you?" she asked of Petunia, who shook her head. Mrs. Figg scoffed, "Typical Dumbledore. Always thinking that people don't need to know the reasons why he asks them to do things. That's part of the reason he sent you," and now she looked at Rose, "to live with your aunt and uncle. Because your mother, something about how she died, Dumbledore thinks it's what protected you, when he tried to kill you. And since your aunt is your mother's sister, there's a connection through her to you as well. I'm just glad that your aunt and uncle love you. I was so afraid, when I heard about his plan, since Lily always said that her brother-in-law hated magic."

She looked to Petunia, "Sorry, I didn't mean to…"

Petunia waved it off, "He doesn't like it. He accepts Rose as my niece, and that I'd do anything to protect her. I failed my sister, pushed her away, I couldn't let that happen a second time." She looked down at Rose with a smile.

"She does look just like her mum, doesn't she?" asked Mrs. Figg.

"You knew my mum?" asked Rose excitedly.

"I met her a couple of times, during the war," Mrs. Figg replied. "I wouldn't say I knew her, exactly. I'm just a squib, there wasn't much I could do, but Dumbledore suggested that, just before you were born, I should keep an eye on your aunt and uncle's house, in case any Death Eaters came after them to get to your mum and dad. They didn't, thank Merlin, but after your parents died, he said that now I'd be making sure you were safe too."

Rose sniffed back a tear, then went over and hugged Mrs. Figg. "Thank you Mrs. Figg."

"Arabella," the squib replied, "Call me Arabella."

"Thank you Arabella," said Rose, squeezing the hug again.

"Yes, thank you Arabella. I didn't know how much, well, how much danger we were in. But, it's good to know that help was close at hand," said Petunia with a smile.

"Now, about that owl you came to ask me about?" replied Arabella Figg.


	3. Chapter 3

The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling.

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><p><strong>Note: <strong>I'd like to thank my beta Pelahnar for her excellent help in making this chapter easier to understand, and catching all my mistypes and spelling errors. You can thank her for the preponderance of the em-dash and ellipses.

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><p>Once the owl was sent, the letter both accepting Rose's admittance to Hogwarts, and requesting some further information, and with a promise from Arabella to call the Dursleys as soon as she got a reply, Rose and Petunia returned home. Being summer vacation, Rose didn't really have much to do, so she spent her afternoon reading in her room. It wasn't the largest room in the house – obviously, even the people at Hogwarts knew it was the smallest – but it was hers, and hers alone.<p>

Rose didn't have much in the way of furniture: a bed, bookcase, and a desk on which to do her homework. That was all she needed. The walls too plain, since her uncle didn't want her to put holes in the walls by hanging posters or picture frames. Rose thought that was rather hypocritical of him, as he let Dudley put up posters, but since she didn't actually _have_ any posters or pictures, it was a moot point anyway.

Two days later – exactly a week before her eleventh birthday – Rose was awoken by a tapping on her bedroom window. At first Rose didn't know what to do, since all of the bedrooms at Number Four were on the second floor, she wasn't sure how anyone would get up to the window to tap on it. Then she remembered that she was a witch, and the world now included post owls. With a smile, she leapt out of bed and hurried over to the window.

After opening the window and quickly ducking out of the way of the owl that had been hovering outside, she smiled and carefully stepped over to the bird. It was sitting on her desk, and had something rolled up and tied to its left leg.

"Can I get that?" Rose hesitantly asked the bird. She was hesitant both because this was only her second time dealing with a post owl, and because she wasn't sure the bird would understand her.

In response the owl stuck out its leg, allowing Rose to untie the scroll, before lifting up and flying out the window, which Rose had left open in her excitement. Rose was struck dumb for a few moments at the absurdity of the situation before shrugging it off and unrolling the scroll of parchment.

"Dear Ms. Potter," Rose read aloud. "Thank you for your prompt response to your acceptance letter. We apologize for any inconvenience that may have occurred, with regard to your apparent lack of owl, but commend you on your initiative in locating a local squib to assist you. Per your request, a representative of Hogwarts will be arriving the afternoon of July twenty-fourth." Rose paused, telling herself, "That's today." She then continued to read, "He will arrive by tea time, and will be able to explain more about your place within the wider wizarding world. Thank you, once again, for your prompt and courteous response. All of us at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry look forward to your arrival on September first. Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress."

With a smile, Rose put the parchment in the top drawer of her desk, on top of her Hogwarts letter, and atop the pile of letters from her primary school teachers commending her for her excellent marks and good behavior.

At breakfast she told her aunt and uncle about the letter, and after running upstairs to retrieve it, showed it to them. Her aunt was happy that they'd send a representative, though her uncle was upset that a wizard would be in his house.

"You'll be at work, Uncle Vernon," Rose pointed out. "It's not like you'll actually have to meet him."

With an appreciative smile, Vernon gave his consent, though Rose was sure that her aunt would have overruled him anyway, since both she and Aunt Petunia, were looking forward to the meeting.

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><p>With a pop, Professor Severus Snape appeared just outside of the wards that had been placed around Number Four, Privet Drive. When McGonagall had asked if anyone would be willing to explain the wizarding world to young Rose Potter, Snape had jumped, well, not <em>actually<em> jumped, but quickly offered his services to the Deputy Headmistress.

He looked around at the suburban street, smoothed back his slick hair, and stepped onto the concrete walkway leading to the front door of Number Four. Before he was able to even raise his hand to knock on the door, it was quickly opened by a young girl. Snape's breath caught in his throat as he realized just how much the girl looked like her mother – for Snape knew that this girl could be none other that the famous Rose Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived, the daughter of his beloved Lily Evans. It was only when he noticed her eyes, which were brown like her father and not the emerald green of her mother, that Snape broke out of his reminiscence.

"Hello," Rose said to Snape.

Snape smiled, "Hello. Are you Rose Potter?" The young girl nodded. "May I come in?" asked Snape.

"Of course," said Rose, stepping out of the way. "Aunt Petunia, the man from Hogwarts is here!" Rose shouted into the house.

Snape halted as he heard the name, remembering how he'd treated, and been treated by, Petunia back when they were both young children.

"Severus?" asked an oddly familiar voice. Snape looked up and saw the muggle sister of his beloved Lily, the formerly shrew-like Petunia Dursley, née Evans.

"Hello, Petunia," said Snape coldly.

"You know each other?" asked Rose, surprised.

"We grew up in the same town," explained Petunia. "He and Lily were best friends almost all the way through their time at Hogwarts." She glared at Snape, "She said you'd turned 'dark'."

Snape swallowed and nodded, "I regret to inform you that, yes, I did, as you say, turn 'dark'. It was not my best decision, and it is one that I have come to regret deeply. Luckily Headmaster Dumbledore has offered me the chance to atone for my past deeds, by giving me my position at Hogwarts."

"Well, invite him in Aunt Petunia," said Rose, annoyed by the oddly confrontational attitude of the two grown-ups.

"Ah, yes, _do_ come in Severus," said Petunia, stepping out of the way.

Snape nodded, and stepped into Number Four. He looked around, noting how utterly ordinary and unremarkable the home looked, its interior matching its exterior in their mundane appearance. "You have a beautiful home," Snape lied.

"Thank you, Severus," said Petunia, guiding her guest into the living room. Snape glanced at the wall of pictures, and noticed that, while many of them featured Petunia with a large man about their age and a young boy about Rose's, any pictures with Rose, save one or two, only featured Petunia.

"So, what questions do you have, Ms. Potter?" asked Severus as he cautiously sat down in the offered easy chair.

"Well, tons really, but since you said you knew my mum, can you tell me about her?" asked Rose, who was sitting on the edge of the sofa, Petunia sitting beside her with a loving hand on the young witch's back. "Aunt Petunia could only tell me so much, since they didn't really get along when mum was at school." Snape noticed Petunia wince slightly when Rose mentioned the animosity.

"Quite frankly, your mother was the brightest witch of her generation," said Snape with an uncharacteristic smile. "While she excelled at all her subjects, her favorites were potions and charms."

"Charms?" asked Rose.

"Ah, yes, forgot that you don't know much about the subjects taught at Hogwarts. Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense against the Dark Arts are the three primary wand-based subjects offered. Charms alter the inherent qualities of objects, for instance, with the colour-changing charm."

"Can you show me that one?" asked Rose, her face as mask of excitement and expectation.

"Of course," said Snape, his carefully manufactured mask of disdain wilting in the face of the daughter of his beloved Lily. He carefully extracted his wand and, after selecting an appropriate object – one of Petunia's tea cups – he said "_Multicorfors!_" and the tea cup changed from the light blue on white pattern to silver on green.

"Awesome!" said Rose, as she grabbed the tea cup – which was luckily empty – and examined it.

After an inquisitive look from Petunia, Snape offered, "Like most charms, the colour-changing charm lasts for quite a long time, though with most magic, the duration is dependent on the power of the caster. A stronger witch or wizard will cast a longer-lasting charm. Also like most spells, charms or otherwise, it can be dispelled with the appropriate counter-spell. In this case, it is _finite_," as he said the counter-spell, the silver and green faded back to blue and white.

"Aww," said a disappointed Rose as she put the now-perfectly-normal tea cup back on the table with the other two tea cups.

"As I said, your mother was particularly adept at Charms, but she was quite proficient will all types of spells, as well as Potions, which I teach at Hogwarts, Herbology, which while a companion discipline to my own is taught by Professor Sprout, and History of Magic, the last of the six primary courses offered at Hogwarts," further explained Snape.

"So, did you know my father as well?" asked Rose.

Snape winced, "Your father and I did not get along. We had but one thing in common, and that was our mutual devotion to your mother, and perhaps also our mutual disdain for each other."

"Ah," said Rose. She hadn't realized how difficult her question would be for the Professor. "Do you know how she died? Aunt Petunia only said that she was killed by an evil man during a war, but since there wasn't much in the letter that Dumbledore left, I was wondering if you could tell me more."

Snape sighed, "She died protecting you. Like I said, after your mother and I had our… falling out… I turned to the darker magics… and along with them, those that practiced them, including the man who killed your mother."

Rose was shocked and shied away from Professor Snape.

"I don't begrudge your animosity, but I do beg your forgiveness. When I heard that He intended to go after your parents, to go after you, I begged him not to kill her. He promised me that He would not," Snape explained, growing angry. "When I realized what had happened, I was heartbroken. It was then that I decided that I would need to atone for what I had done, betraying your mother, what she believed. I hope that, one day, you can forgive me for what I did to you and your mother."

Rose was about to ask about her father, but realized that perhaps that was too much to ask. "I will try," she admitted softly. "It will be hard, since I know that, although you are sorry, you are part of the reason why I don't have my mum and dad anymore."

"I'm sorry," said Snape, his carefully constructed facade crumbling. "I am truly sorry for betraying your mother."

"I know," said Rose to the penitent Potions Master.

"Um," said Petunia uneasily. "Perhaps we can proceed to the matter of Rose's education, specifically, her books and 'equipment'."

Snape sniffed, and wiped an errant tear from his cheek, "Of course. Your mother, and your father, set up a trust account at Gringotts for you." He reached into a pocket of his robes and extracted a large brass key, "This, when presented to the goblins at Gringotts, will allow your access to your vault. You can get the gold you need from there to pay for your books and equipment."

"Goblins?" asked Rose, the subject of Snape's betrayal temporaily forgotten upon mention of the unknown magical creatures.

"Yes, goblins," confirmed Snape without further explanation. He set the key down on the table. He looked to Petunia, "Do you know how to get to Diagon Alley, did Lily tell you?"

Petunia shook her head, "Mum and Dad went with her, but I never did. I was too… jealous, I guess." She looked at her niece, who had picked up the key and was examining it, "That changed when Rose arrived. She's my second chance to do right by Lily."

Snape nodded, glancing at the girl that was an almost perfect doppelgänger for her mother at the same age, "I understand the desire for second chances." He then returned his gaze to Petunia, "The entrance to Diagon Alley is behind the Leaky Cauldron pub in London, on Charing Cross Road. I doubt you'll be able to see it, but Rose will, and she'll be able to take you inside. From there, just ask the publican Tom to open the way to Diagon Alley. I suggest you stop at Gringotts right away, though you might want to check the prices first so that you don't get too little, or too much, out of Rose's vault."

Petunia nodded, "Thank you Severus." She stood, and extended her hand, "Please, don't be a stranger. Although I can't forget what you did, perhaps we can forgive."

Snape took Petunia's hand, "I'd like that Petunia. For Rose's sake, and for Lily's memory."

"For Rose and Lily," echoed Petunia.

After escorting the Professor to the door, Petunia returned to the sofa and her niece, who was still enthralled by the key. "Hey Flower," said Petunia, brushing Rose's auburn hair with her hand, "When did you want to go?"

Rose bit her lip in thought, "Well, I want to go tonight, or even tomorrow, but… I was thinking that perhaps we could go next week, for my birthday? That way we could make a day of it, and you wouldn't have to make a cake or anything. We could even take Dudley."

Petunia smiled, "I think that might work, though, I'm not sure if your cousin would be interested."

"Of course I would," came an excited response from near the top of the stairs, nearly out of sight of the living room.

Petunia turned to see her son peeking out from the top of the stairs, "How much did you hear?"

"All of it," Dudley admitted excitedly, "When he changed the colour of the cup, and then changed it back, and when he explained about how Aunt Lily and Uncle James died, and how he was sorry that he joined the man who did it. And how Rose has a vault at the bank run by goblins that is full of gold! And how we're going to go to someplace called Diagon Alley for Rose's birthday, and how only magical people can see the pub that's the entrance."

Petunia chuckled, "Ah, well, I guess since it's not a secret anymore, you'll have to come."

"Awesome!" exclaimed Dudley. He ran down the stairs, "Do you think you can get me anything magical?"

"I don't know Dudley, it's going to be Rose's birthday. Yours was last month," said Petunia with an air of reproach.

"Awww, but what's the use of having a witch for a cousin if I can't get anything cool and magical out of it?" complained Dudley.

Petunia and Rose but chuckled at Dudley's enthusiasm.

"You know how your father feels about magic Dudley," chided Petunia.

"Awww,"he whined.

"I'll get you something," offered Rose. "That is, as long as you promise not to trip me anymore with your Smeltings stick."

"But you never get tripped. You always roll or flip or something. It's not like you're getting hurt or anything. I wouldn't hurt you, you're my favorite cousin," explained Dudley.

"Dudders, I'm your only cousin," countered Rose with a chuckle.


	4. Chapter 4

The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling.

* * *

><p>Rose's birthday dawned with a beautiful sunrise, though she wasn't awake to see it. She'd stayed up late the previous night looking over the two sheets of parchment that comprised her acceptance letter to Hogwarts. Mainly she was looking over the equipment list, thinking about what sort of things she could learn about in A History of Magic or Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. She wondered how big a "standard size 2" cauldron was? Was it as big as Aunt Petunia's biggest pot? Or was is as small as the saucepan that her aunt used to make gravy? She had so many questions and was so anxious that she overslept and was awoken not by the sunrise, or even her alarm clock, but by her cousin Dudley.<p>

"Wake up birthday girl," said Dudley as he gently pushed Rose's blanket-covered form and then jumped back to get out of the range of her arms.

When she didn't attempt to smack him away he stepped back to her bed and pushed harder this time, "Rose, wake up!"

Again, he jumped back to keep from getting hit by his younger cousin's flailing arm as she awoke, and again, he was disappointed when the expected response didn't come.

"Are you even alive?" he asked quietly before taking another step forward and pushing much harder. He let out an "eep" of surprised when his push rolled her off her bed and onto the floor. Realizing that falling to the floor would surely wake his cousin up, he turned and bolted out of her bedroom before she could retaliate.

Rose woke as she hit the floor, and heard her cousin run out of her bedroom, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. "Dudley!" she shouted as she used her bed to push herself up off the floor. Once standing, she brushed her hair back out of her eyes and glared at the open door. "One day, Dudders," she said coldly, "Once I've learned some magic, you are going to pay for that. Not today, not tomorrow, but someday, when you're least expecting it, you will get what's coming to you."

She then chuckled, grabbed her bathrobe from the hook on her closet door, and made her way to the bathroom. A quick shower, and then about twice as long to get her hair into something resembling a ponytail, which required more hairspray than she'd care to admit and two dozen bobby pins, for, although her hair was the same color as her mother's, it still held the same unruly properties that had plagued the Potters since time immemorial. She then made sure she had her makeup on right. Since starting primary school five years before, this had consisted of careful application of foundation and concealer on her forehead, mostly obscuring her scar. With the addition of a side swept fringe of her auburn hair, it took a lot of work for someone to see her least liked yet most distinctive feature. She finally left the bathroom and headed back to her bedroom, to put on some nice clothes — a simple white blouse and a waist length navy skirt as well as some comfortable trainers and a heather grey hooded sweatshirt. Once dressed, she headed down to breakfast nearly three quarters of an hour after Dudley had pushed her out of bed.

* * *

><p>Petunia lead her son and niece out of the Tube station and out onto Charing Cross, "Now, let's stay together. I know my mum and dad said it was just a few blocks from here, but since I've never gone…" She looked around, then with a shrug, lead the the two eleven year olds north, away from the Thames, and hopefully, towards the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley.<p>

As they were about to cross a street to what looked like a block full of bookstores, Rose stopped and pointed at a building across the way, "Is that it?"

Petunia looked askance at where Rose was pointing. It took a couple of seconds, but finally, in what had at first appeared to be a small utility alley between a bookstore and a record store, an ancient looking pub appeared, sandwiched between. It looked at least a hundred years old, possibly two or three times that. After all the fires and bombings that London had endured over that period of time, Petunia was surprised it hadn't been rebuilt at least once. She guessed that was just the power of magic. "Looks like," she said with a nod, "Can't believe I didn't see it at first."

"See what?" asked a confused Dudley.

"The Leaky Cauldron," answered Rose. "It's right there between that bookstore on the corner and that record store. Looks a bit out of place, though, like it hasn't changed since the Civil War."

"What, like Oliver Cromwell?" asked Dudley, who'd never been really good at school.

"Yes, like Oliver Cromwell, what, did you think I was talking about the American Civil War?" asked Rose with a chuckle. "Or perhaps the Spanish Civil War? Lincoln or Franco, Dudders?"

"Rose, there's no need to make fun of your cousin," admonished Petunia. "Just because he'd rather play football or rugby than study doesn't mean you can make fun of him for it."

"Well, what can I make fun of him for?" asked Rose.

Petunia tried not to chuckle, "It might be best if you didn't make fun of Dudley at all, Rose. Just like he shouldn't make fun of you," The second part she directed more towards her son than her sister's daughter. "So, shall we?"

The trio walked across the street and up to the door of the Leaky Cauldron. Rose and Petunia with confidence, Dudley with uncommon wariness. It wasn't until Petunia pulled her son through the door of the wizarding pub that Dudley finally saw it.

"Hello, I'm Tom," said the bald, slightly hunched man behind the bar, "And welcome to the Leaky Cauldron. Just passing through to Diagon Alley?"

Rose nodded, "I'm getting my books for Hogwarts." She smiled, and said confidently, "It's my first year, and I've been looking forward to it."

Tom looked from Rose to Petunia, "Quite the enthusiastic young witch you've got there."

"She's my niece," qualified Petunia, "And Severus, that is, Professor Snape, said that someone would be able to let us into the Alley proper, since only my sister was a witch in the family. Well, other than Rose here."

"Rose?" asked Tom. He did the mental math in his head, and compared the young witch to his memory, "As is Rose _Potter_?"

Rose nodded, then asked, "Yep, did you know my mum?"

Tom shook his head, "Didn't know her very well. Her and your dad were infrequent but regular customers after they graduated, though they disappeared right after you were born, went into hiding from You-Know-Who."

"Who?" asked Rose, confused.

"You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," further explained Tom.

Dudley, who had just gotten over his confusion at going into a pub he couldn't see until his mother had pulled him into it, continued the running gag, "We don't know who, and if you can't name him, then we'll never know who he is."

"Was," said an older witch, sitting at the bar, "The Dark Lord was killed nearly a decade ago, when he tried to kill you." She was pointing at Rose.

"He killed my parents," said Rose softly.

"But he couldn't kill you," the woman said with a smile. She then stood, holding her pint of bitter up in a toast, "To Rose Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived!"

"Rose Potter!" said the dozen or so other patrons in the bar, echoing the toast. One, a thin, swarthy man in a dirty turban near the back of the pub, stuttered out, "R-r-rose P-p-pot-t-ter."

"Um, thanks," said Rose, blushing slightly. "But, I've really got to get my school books and stuff."

"Oh, of course," said Tom with an admonished look on his face, "You're practically muggle-born. I'll get the wall for you."

"Wall?" asked Rose softly to her aunt as the three of them followed Tom around the bar to the back door of the pub. The walk took longer than expected, since a couple of the patrons wanted to shake her hand and thank her.

Dudley was jealous because nobody cared about him, a rare occurrence since his father would usually boast about something or another he'd done. Without Vernon around, Dudley was just Rose Potter's muggle cousin, and of little, if any, consequence. He didn't like it, but since it was her birthday, he didn't say anything.

* * *

><p>Petunia, Dudley, and Rose were all amazed when Tom tapped a brick on the back wall of the pub and an opening grew into an archway into a fantastic vista. The shops, while looking a bit younger than the Leaky Cauldron itself, looked to be of a style of the late nineteenth century, not the turn of the twenty-first. They also sold fantastic wares, from potion ingredients to robes, wands to owls. It was obviously not an ordinary street.<p>

"Dad would hate this," said Dudley softly.

"Not an ordinary shop in sight," agreed Rose. "You're right Dudders, Uncle Vernon would hate this place."

Petunia chuckled. Twenty years ago she was too jealous of her sister to come, and then was too jealous of her sister to come back after hearing Lily and their parent's tales of Diagon Alley. Now, seeing it herself, she kicked herself for being so immature. She loved her husband, but she did have to admit, "Vernon would hate this, but, since he's not here, let's enjoy ourselves, shall we?"

Rose and Dudley looked to Petunia, then raced down the alley, dodging stalls and shoppers as they ran.

"Don't go too far!" shouted Petunia, as she made her way, at a more sedate and civilized pace, after her son and niece.

After spotting a bookstore, Petunia called down the alleyway, "Rose, Dudley, get over here right this instant!" When, after she didn't see nor hear the children, she shouted, "Dudley Vernon Dursley! Rose Dorea Potter! Get over right now!"

Ten seconds later Rose, followed closely by her cousin, broke through the crowd of shoppers and stopped, panting, before Petunia.

"We need to get the prices of your books before we can go to the bank, so no wandering off."

"Awww mum," said Dudley.

"Awww Aunt Petunia," echoed Rose.

"No, you already ran off once, and didn't come back when I called, so, this is your punishment."

Once the crowd finally dispersed after hearing the name of the Girl-Who-Lived, the three of them went calmly (at least, as calmly as a pair of eleven year olds and their parent/aunt can be) into Flourish and Blotts.

"Can I help you?" asked a salesman, who looked to be a few years younger than Petunia.

"I'm looking for first year Hogwarts textbooks. My niece is going there this year and I need to know how much to pull out of her vault to pay for them," replied Petunia. Behind her Dudley and Rose were gazing at the titles spelt out in gilt lettering on the spines of the books that were stacked on the shelves, staying close to the relative normalcy of family.

"Ah, well, are you getting the full set, or are you just getting the updated volumes?" asked the salesman.

"The full set," replied Petunia. "My sister's books are… unavailable at the moment, so my niece won't be able to use them."

"Good, good," said the salesman. He took out a sheet of parchment, and with a wave of his hand it was covered in writing. "This is out price lists. The first number is the price of a new volume, the second is the least expensive price of one of our used books. Since the Defense professor is new this year," and he added _sotto voce_, "aren't they always," before retuning to a normal voice, "we don't have any used copies of that book."

Petunia looked over the parchment, half amazed by the fact that she was actually reading something off of parchment, and the other half amazed by the odd pricing. "Um, I know wizards have their own money, but I don't exactly understand the symbols."

"Ah, a muggle, we get a few of you every year. The first number, the one after the crossed fleam," he began to explain, pointing to an example of the character, which looked like an upside-down two with a bit of extra curve and a crossbar like some people wrote in their 7's or Z's. "That's how many galleons it costs. Those are the small gold coins. The sext symbol, after the number above the slash, is the sickle symbol." The described symbol looked like a rotated 3 with an extra zig-zag at the bottom, giving it two points below the curved part. "There's seventeen sickles to a galleon, and they're the silver coins about an inch across. The last bit is the number of knuts, that's K N U T. Those are represented by the triquetra. Twenty-nine knuts in a sickle, and they're the big bronze coins, a bit bigger than the sickle. The sickle symbol and the triquetra for the knuts are usually only used when the cost is less than a galleon, otherwise they're just written as sickles-slash-knuts after the galleons."

Most of the books were in the three to four galleon range, though the used books were less than a galleon.

Petunia tried to wrap her mind around the description the wizarding money, but eventually her mind realized that it wouldn't happen, and that she'd just have to let the younger and more nimble mind of her niece figure everything out. In the meantime she'd just round everything up a galleon and let Rose keep the change. "Thanks," she mumbled, before turning and, still reading over the price list, leading the children out of the bookstore and down the alley to the bank.

* * *

><p>Rose and Dudley were crowded into the front of the goblin mine car, with Petunia sitting behind them, knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the goblin vehicle.<p>

Rose had been overjoyed when she'd finally caught sight of the large marble edifice of Gringotts, while Petunia was more amazed by the goblins themselves. For her son and niece the goblins weren't that odd — Rose had even compared them to Yoda — though Petunia had wished they looked more like David Bowie's Goblin King than a bunch of Oompa-Loompas.

"What's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?" asked Dudley as the cart rushed through a cavern that was full of the rocky protuberances.

"An 'M'?" guessed Rose, too intent on memorizing the wondrous experience to answer a question from her cousin.

"A stalagmite is on the floor, and is 'mighty' for holding up the ceiling, while a stalactite is on the ceiling and has to hold on 'tight' or fall off," explained Petunia. While she hadn't actually gone to University, having married Vernon and fallen into her role of housewife, and eventually mother, before her twenty-first birthday, she'd had wanted to go into one of the sciences, geology being one of her favorite subjects. After being soundly rejected from Hogwarts she, in typical fashion for a teenager, tried to be everything Lily wasn't, and since Lily was a witch, Petunia wanted to be a scientist.

"Oh, thanks mum," said Dudley, not really expecting anyone, let alone his mother, to give him an answer to the idle question.

As the cart slowed to a stop, the three humans looked around. The tunnel they were in was long and dark, with the only light being a torch burning a bright blue flame in front of each of the perhaps dozen small doors along the passage, with over twenty feet between the doors, which alternated different sides of the track.

"Wow, how far down are we?" asked Rose.

"As you can see, we're in the six hundreds," said the Goblin, stepping out of the cart and gesturing at the golden number '687' on the small metal door.

"Ah, that tells me everything, and yet, still nothing at all," replied Rose with a roll of her eyes as she climbed out of the cart herself onto the rocky ledge outside the vault.

"Don't be so sarcastic, young lady," admonished Petunia, who was still gripping the sides of the cart.

"You coming mum?" asked Dudley, following his cousin out of the cart.

Petunia just shook her head, "I'm not getting out until we're back at the surface. And next time," she turned to look at Rose, "You're coming down here alone. I don't ever want to do this again."

"Aw, it was like, the _best_ roller coaster _ever_!" exclaimed Dudley at his mother's defamation.

"Exactly," replied Petunia, slightly green.

Rose just smiled, "Thank sfor coming down anyway, Aunt Petunia." She then turned to look at the goblin, "So, how exactly does this work?"

The goblin held out his hand, "Your key?"

Rose looked over her shoulder at her aunt. Petunia reluctantly removed her hands from the side of the cart, extracted the key Severus had given her from her purse, and handed it to Rose, who passed it along to the goblin.

The goblin stepped up, and unlocked the vault door, "Will you be needing a bag, or did you have your own?"

Rose glanced at her aunt, before looking back at the goblin, "I'll take a bag if you're offering."

The goblin extracted a canvas sack from one of the pockets on his waistcoat — a pocket that didn't look nearly large enough to hold the small being's hands, let alone a sack as large as a pillow case. Once Rose had the bag, the goblin (she thought he'd been called Griphook but wasn't sure) pulled open the door.

Green smoke came billowing out of the vault as the door swung open. Rose jumped out of the path of the cloud, while Dudley was more interested in the rest of the passage as she was caught and started coughing. Once the smoke cleared Rose peeked into the vault. Inside there were mounds three feet high of the tiny gold coins, galleons, dozens of carefully stacked silver sickles, and a couple of heaps of the bronze knuts.

"Wow," said Rose softly.

Dudley, finally over his smoke induced coughing, stepped up behind Rose and looked over his cousin's shoulder at the vault, "Holy sh-"

"Dudley, language!" exclaimed Petunia, interrupting her son's attempt at blasphemy.

"Sorry mum," blushed Dudley, "but it is an awful lot of coins. How much did you say they were worth?"

The goblin looked at the pudgy muggle, and replied with disdain, "Each galleon can be exchanged for approximately seventeen of your Pounds."

"Holy sh–"

"Dudley, language!" exclaimed Petunia again. "You say that word one more time and I'll wash your mouth out with soap and you'll not be getting any supper tonight."

"Aw, mum!" whined Dudley. While not as fat as he could have been had his mother not doted equally on him and his cousin, he was still his father's son, and so still enjoyed a larger than average, or was particularly healthy, amount of food.

"He's right," replied Rose, finally stepping into the vault. She knelt down and carefully removed a handful of the gold galleons of the top of one of the mounds. She didn't expect them to be so heavy, each one was heavier than a penny, and those were much larger, though not as large as the gigantic knuts. She opened her hand and guessed that there were at least three dozen coins in her small hands. She looked up and showed her hand to her aunt, who was still a couple of meters away sitting in the cart, "I've got about three dozen galleons right here. Thats… twenty times thirty-six, minus three times thirty-six… seven twenty minus… seventy two and thirty six, which is one hundred eight… so that's seven twenty minus one-oh-eight… six hundred twelve. Six hundred twelve pounds in the palm of my hand."

Dudley let out a low whistle, "Wow Rose, you're rich. There's got to be over a million pounds in there."

"At last count," commented Griphook, who was still waiting patiently with the vault door in hand, waiting to close it, "Miss Potter had five million, seven hundred thirty-five thousand, two hundred fifty-three galleons; two hundred forty-seven thousand, three hundred ninety-two sickles; and seven hundred eighty-one thousand, nine hundred twenty-five knuts."

"Five million?" asked Rose, as she leaned on the wall of the vault in surprise.

"Five million, seven hundred thirty-five thousand, two hundred fifty-three galleons to be exact ma'am," corrected the goblin. "One must be both precise and accurate at Gringotts."

"That's nearly a hundred million pounds!" exclaimed Dudley, who while not the smartest student in his year, his cousin took that adulation quite handedly, was quick enough to do the simple math of five times twenty. "You're bloody rich!"

"Dudley, language!" exclaimed Petunia for the third time. "You've just bought yourself a soup supper young man."

"Aw, mum! I didn't say the s-word at all!" complained Dudley at the unfairness of his mother's punishment.

"He's right Aunt Petunia. He didn't say the s-word, and you said that he'd only get punished if he said the s-word for a third time," noted Rose, still holding the handful of galleons.

"Alright," admitted Petunia. "You're both right, it's not fair for me to change your punishment like that. So, I'll just state, right now, that if I hear any bad language, from either of you, for the rest of the trip, then you'll both get your mouths washed out and go to bed without supper."

"But I haven't said anything!" exclaimed Rose. "Why should I get punished if Dudley says a bad word?"

"You either hang together or hang separately, my dear," replied Petunia, mangling a quote from Ben Franklin.

"What?" asked Dudley, confused. "I thought you were just going to wash out our mouths. Who said anything about hanging? I don't want to get hanged… hung… whatever."

"She means that we need to stick together, rely on each other, support each other, or we'll get punished right next to each other. It's an American saying, I think. I saw it one of the books in the library," explained Rose.

"Are you done here, Miss Potter?" asked Griphook, still holding the vault door open.

"Oh, sorry," said Rose, her face becoming the color of her name as she blushed in embarrassment. She dropped the handful of coins she'd been holding into the bag, then grabbed another few of handfuls, just in case. "My parents sure were rich."

"This is just your trust fund, Miss Potter. As the Potter Heir, when you come into your full inheritance as Lady Potter you'll have access to all of the Potter Vaults," corrected Griphook.

"Vaults, as in plural? Just how rich were my parents?" asked Rose as she stepped out of her vault, the sack heavy with the nearly full gross of galleons she'd dropped into it.

"Did I stutter?" asked Griphook snidely. "Yes, Miss Potter, vaults. The Potters have held vaults at Gringotts since before Hogwarts was founded, yours is but one among many, traditionally held by the Potter heir, though I fear that you will be the last." As the goblin talked of the Potters, he closed and locked the vault.

"Wow," said Rose softly, repeating herself from when Griphook had opened the vault. "What do you mean by the last Potter heir? What about my children?"

"Ah, but they won't be Potters, will they?" asked Griphook. "They'll be of whatever line your husband belongs to. The end of yet another of the old families, like the Peverells and the Gaunts." The goblin then held out the vault key for Rose, "Your key, Miss Potter."

"Thank you," Rose said absently as she took the key and put it into the bag with the galleons, before stepping back onto the cart with her aunt and cousin, as well as Griphook.

The aforementioned goblin released the break lever, and the cart resumed its wild ride, rising back to the surface, though still reminding Rose and the Dursleys of a roller coaster.

* * *

><p>The first stop for the Dursleys and Rose after leaving Gingotts was back where they'd been before. Rose had insisted on all new books, while Petunia was more hesitant.<p>

"Aunt Petunia, you heard the goblin, I'm rich. Ten galleons isn't going to make much of a dent in those piles of gold, and you've always told me it's important to make a good first impression. Would you rather that impression be of a girl who had to scrimp and save for every penny, or knut in this case? Or would you rather it be of a confident young woman who didn't have to sacrifice where quality was important?" asked the newly eleven year old witch of her aunt.

Petunia sighed, "All right, it's your money anyway, and I know that your father, even though I barely knew him, would have been of the same opinion. Nothing was ever too good for his wife, and nothing would ever be too good for his daughter." Petunia smiled and added, "Now, if you were a bit more like your mother, you'd have a couple more books in that pile."

"Hogwarts probably has a massive library," countered Rose. "Plus, I still need to get Dudders something."

Petunia shook her head, "Getting your cousin a present on _your_ birthday. It should be the other way around."

Rose just shrugged, "It's barely been a month since his birthday, and I was only able to get him that video game because you and Uncle Vernon gave me the money. So, now I'm going to get him a present from _me_."

Petunia just sighed, "At least one of you is growing up."

Dudley, who was looking through a book on pranks he'd found, looked up at his mother's comment, "Hey, I'm older than she is. If either of us is going to be growing up first, it's going to be me."

Rose chuckled, "Dudders, don't you know that girls grow up faster than boys? Plus, I don't think you can use that book."

"No," said Dudley with a sigh. "They all require a wand, but it did give me a few ideas for things to do at Smeltings."

Petunia looked shocked, "Dudley! What would your father say?"

"Don't get caught?" answered Dudley hesitantly.

Rose giggled, "Yeah, that sounds like Uncle Vernon."

Petunia just rolled her eyes as her son returned the wizarding prank book it the shelf and her niece collected her new books from the same salesman who had helped them before their visit to Rose's vault. Once they were outside she looked up and down the alley, "So, where now?"

"Well, I was thinking…" began Rose.

"That's dangerous," commented Dudley.

Rose lightly punched her cousin in the arm before continuing, "As I was saying. I think I should get my wand first. Can't do any magic without a wand, can I?"

Petunia sighed, remembering how she'd been terrorized by Lily and Severus with their wands twenty years ago when she'd been particularly nasty to them. "I think Lily said the wand shop was called Ollivanders. I hope they're still around."

The three of them looked up and down the alley before Dudley pointed up at a sign about five storefronts down. "Ollivanders: Makes of Fine Wands Since Three Eighty-Two B.C.," he read. He then added with a smile, "Don't think there's much of a chance of them going out of business then, eh?"

Petunia just rolled her eyes and sighed as the three of them made their way down to the dusty storefront.

"Don't look that busy," said Dudley.

"Well, your Aunt Lily only ever got the one wand, I guess witches and wizards really only need one. Can't imagine how he stays open getting the new students each year as his only customers," said Petunia in response.

"Well, what was it that you told me, Aunt Petunia, 'Wizards do things differently'? This could be one of those things. They use real gold and silver coins, so perhaps they don't have the same," she paused, thinking of the right word, "economic," she guessed, trying to remember the word she'd read in the family's old encyclopedia, then continued, "problems as normal people."

"Well, we won't be getting done any quicker standing round looking at some old wand on an old cushion that should have been replaced before you both were born," Petunia rambled with a nod. She then lead her son and niece into the small shop. Aside from a rather fragile looking stool, the only things in the shop were the shelves full of long, thin boxes. "I suppose those are all wands," Petunia said, looking up and realizing that the room was much taller than an average shop's.

"That they are," came the sudden voice of a kindly looking old man. Like most wizards he was wearing a long robe, which Rose thought looked a bit like what she saw judges wear on the telly, but more comfortable. Not a dress, since it wasn't cut right for that, and even wizards wouldn't wear dresses, would they?

"I'm here for my wand," said Rose tentatively. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that her aunt and cousin were also surprised by the shopkeeper's sudden appearance.

Mr. Ollivander smiled, "Yes, I would expect so. I've been waiting for you to come in. There was talk in the alley that you were here, and since it's your birthday, I had hoped you had finally come for your wand."

"You know it's my birthday?" asked Rose hesitantly.

"I daresay that every witch and wizard in Britain knows that it's Rose Potter's eleventh birthday. When you disappeared, after your parents death, some had thought you'd been lost to us, but I knew you'd be here one day to find your wand. Or shall I say, have your wand find you."

"What?" asked Dudley.

"Don't mind my cousin," said Rose with a glare over her shoulder. "What did you mean, having my wand find me?"

"The wand chooses the witch, you see," said Ollivander. "Come, come, I need to measure you."

Rose stepped forward, beginning to unzip her hoodie, before Ollivander shook his head.

"No, you can leave it on, it shan't interfere," the old wizard said, before taking out a tape measure from _somewhere_ and stretching it along her right arm. He released it and stepped back as the magical tape began measuring her left arm as well.

"Wicked," said Dudley from the edge of the shop, where he stood beside Petunia. Rose had guessed that they had both felt the _magic_ in the air of the small shop and could only come so far.

"Which arm is your wand arm?" asked Ollivander as he noted the measurements the tape was taking, now the length of Rose's left pinky, on a sheet of parchment.

"Um, well, I throw better with my left, but I write with my right," said Rose, unsure if the comparison would hold true. "Oh, when we did archery at camp they said my right eye was dominant, so I always held the bow in my right hand."

"Right then," said Ollivander as the tape began to measure various distances on Rose's face.

She went rather cross-eyed as she watched it measure the length of her nose, before measuring the distance between her nostrils.

"Now, your mother — whom you tend to take after in your looks — seems like just yesterday she was here for her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches, willow, rather swishy. Excellent for charms. Your father, you have his eyes, his was longer, eleven inches of mahogany. Pliable rather than your mother's swish, more of a transfiguration focused wand," explained Ollivander as he jotted down the final measurements, which seemed to be, oddly enough, Rose's height of four foot eight.

"Done sir?" asked Rose as Ollivander collected the magical tape measure with a wave of his hand.

"Not in the least. That was the easy part, allowing me to whittle down the options a bit," explained Ollivander as he looked over the parchment. "See, every wand has a magical core, I favor unicorn hairs, dragon heartstrings, and phoenix feathers in the ones I make, but there are other options on the Continent or the New World. Combined with the wood, and length of course, gives a great many options for your wand. These," and he hefted the parchment, "will allow me to figure out which wands would be best suited to picking you."

"Ah," said Rose, not understanding in the least.

Mr. Ollivander tapped the quill — which Rose was still amused about, actual quills when biros were so cheap — against his chin. With a wave of his hand that looked more Jedi than wizard, a wand box came off of one of the low shelves near where her aunt and cousin stood. Mr. Ollivander caught it and opened it, revealing a rather plain looking wand on a muslin cushion inside the cardboard box, "Here we go. Nine inches, oak, with a unicorn core." He presented the wand to Rose, who took it carefully.

"Um?" asked Rose as she held what not a month ago she'd call a stick in her hand.

Ollivander took the wand back before she could do anything with it, "No, no." He boxed the wand and set it on the stool next to him. "Perhaps…"

The wand boxes flew off the shelves and into the wizard's hand as he tried to find Rose's wand. Dudley at first leaned against the doorframe, but eventually sat on the floor after the first dozen. While Petunia didn't sit down, she was leaning on the doorframe by the second dozen.

"Thirteen, yew, dragon," said Ollivander, compacting his description as he tried yet another wand in Rose's hand with a manic smile on his face. He snatched it back mere seconds after placing it there, like almost every wand so far. "Tricky, tricky."

"It's all right Mr. Ollivander. Perhaps my wand isn't here," said Rose, defeated.

"No, you're just a bit more special," the older man said. He paused, tapping his chin in thought, "Perhaps. Your scar, I hadn't factored that into the arithmancy."

"My scar?" asked Rose.

"Yes, I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that caused it, back in the forties. It was just after the War, Grindelwald was defeated, the muggles had triumphed over their enemies as well. A bright time for the world, both our worlds. Thirteen and a half inches, yew, with a phoenix feather core. A powerful wand, very powerful. If I'd known…"

"Wands don't kill people, wizards do," said Rose, adapting a non-wizarding saying she'd read in an article after that deadly shooting in America a few years back.

"Admirable thought, but without a wand, a wizard is much less powerful," explained Ollivander. "As I was saying, perhaps there is a link." He gestured, and a wand box flew down from a dim reaches of the top of one of the shelves in the store. It flew down and landed gently in Mr. Ollivander's hand. With a puff a breath, it was cleared of the fine layer of dust, "Ah, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches. Nice and supple, a good wand for any magic."

Rose carefully took the wand out of the box Ollivander presented to her, and felt an odd humming in the back of her mind that she'd never felt before, and a warmth in her fingers. With a smirk she gripped the wand lightly, and then swished it through the air. Sparks shot from the end, forcing Mr. Ollivander to duck to escape.

"Wicked," exclaimed Dudley, who had seen the first interesting thing in the shop, discounting the magic tape measure and the flying wand boxes because he'd seen those sort of things in movies, but handheld pyrotechnics were new to him.

"Interesting," said Mr. Ollivander as he closed the lid of the box and handed it to Rose, "Very interesting."

"Why?" asked Rose, who put her wand back into its box. She felt a slight sense of loss as she closed the lid.

"Well, as I was saying, His wand had a phoenix feather core, just as yours does. That phoenix, he only gave me two feathers to make into wands. The first was sold almost right away, but the second… I'd given up hope that it's witch would come. Your wands are siblings, and as such, I'd expect great things from you, Miss Potter. He did great things; evil things, dark things, but great nonetheless."

"Um," said Rose, uncertain.

"No matter, you are young yet, and have much to learn," Mr. Ollivander said with a smile. "Come, let us finish our transaction."

* * *

><p>After finding Rose's wand, the rest of the day's shopping went quickly, Petunia and Rose being experts in the art. In addition to the books and supplies listed, Petunia had insisted that Rose get a trunk, "Witches don't use normal luggage. Your mother was made fun of her first year when she brought a load of suitcases to the train. A trunk is what you need. Don't know why, but if you're to make a good impression, you'll need a trunk."<p>

The trunk in question was simple, even though the shop had quite extravagant options, some with multiple compartments, which Rose didn't quite understand how they worked, since they were all the same size as the trunk itself. Instead, Rose's new trunk, which was loaded with the books and potions supplies they'd already purchased, was sturdy, and had some casters for ease of transportation.

"What about my telescope?" asked Rose as they passed the shop for the third time that day.

Petunia smiled and let out a bit of a chuckle, "A collapsible telescope? Surely you jest." In addition to her knowledge of geology, Petunia had at one time been a bit of an astronomy enthusiast. It gave her something to do during the night when Dudley, and later Rose, were young and had woken her. "No, you'll be taking my old telescope. You don't have anything of your mother's, but at least you'll have something of mine," Petunia explained with a hug.

"So what's left?" asked Dudley, who, as the only male present, had been relegated to pulling the trunk.

"Well," said Rose, looking at the list she had in hand. She'd crossed off everything with her pen as they shopped. "Looks like I just have to get my robes, hat, and cloak."

"What exactly are robes? And why do witches and wizards wear them?" asked Dudley with a confused look on his face.

Rose discretely pointed to one of the passing witches, who was wearing what most people would assume was a light blue dress, though conservatively cut. "That's a robe, I looked it up in my dictionary a couple days ago. It's a cloak with arms that secures, either with buttons or in the case of non-magical robes, usually a zipper, up the front. Like the judges on the telly wear. Some of them, it seems, wear them over normal clothes, like that guy over there, you can see the collar of his shirt under his robes." She pointed to a younger wizard who was wearing a dark blue robe. The collar of a dress shirt, and even a hint of a tie, could be seen at his neck above the high collar of the robe itself. "Others, well, let's just say that I think they have some things in common with the Scots."

Dudley wore a confused expression, "What do wizards have to do with Scotland?"

"Aside from it being where Hogwarts is?" asked Petunia. She knew what Rose was talking about, since she had told her niece about what her own sister had told her parents nearly twenty years before.

"Some witches and wizards don't wear anything under their robes," said Rose with a blush. "Just like a Scotsman doesn't wear anything under his kilt."

Dudley looked no less confused as a blush gave his face a color closer to his cousin's auburn hair than its normal pallor.

Rose sniggered, "But that's mostly the older witches and wizards, and the pure…" She paused and looked at her aunt, unsure of the word.

"Purebloods dear," said Petunia. "The old magical families; much like our nobility, they obsess with the traditions of their world. Lily warned me about them, for they made of the bulk of the other side during the war you were born into, though there were some pureblood families on your parents' side as well, but not as many, or enough."

"So, who won?" asked Dudley, as blunt and tactless as was his father.

"I don't think it's a matter of winning," said Petunia, as she gave Rose a hug across the young witch's shoulders in comfort. "But, since Rose is going to Hogwarts, at least her parents' didn't die in vain. They may not have won, but they did not lose, and that, my young and incredibly rude son, is that last we'll talk about it today."

Dudley finally noticed the tear tracing its way down Rose's cheek, but not being the fastest thinker asked, "What'd I say?"

A few minutes later a less distraught Rose followed her aunt into a small shop, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

The eponymous Madam Malkin was a short and stout woman with a smiling face and conservatively cut mauve robes, "Ah, welcome, welcome. Come for your Hogwarts robes?"

Rose looked to her Aunt Petunia, who nodded, and then smiled wanly at the older witch, "Yeah, can I get my hat and cloak here too?"

Madam Malkin nodded, "I can get you the cloak, but for your hat you really should go down the alley to the milliner."

Rose looked up at Petunia, who replied softly, "Hat maker."

"Ah, thank you, so, how does this work?" asked Rose.

Madam Malkin turned and gestured, "Quite simple, really, come on back. I've got another customer who's getting fitted right now, but shan't be a problem."

Rose followed the witch, and Petunia and Dudley followed Rose, to the back of the shop, where a young boy, about the same age as Rose, perhaps a few months older, was standing on a stool as a robe was getting pinned to length by one of Madam Malkin's assistants.

"Just stand there and we'll get you fitted right up," said Madam Malkin, gesturing at an empty stool. She turned to look at Petunia, "Are you her mother?"

"Aunt," replied Petunia. "Her mother was rather petite," she continued, guessing why the seamstress was asking, "though her father was tall, so I'm not sure how she'll turn out."

"It's less of a concern the first year or two, but I hate having customers get replacements halfway through the year because I wasn't able to anticipate their needs," replied Madam Malkin, before turning and beginning her work.

Petunia, realizing that the fitting would take a while, smiled at Rose, "Your cousin and I still have a bit of shopping to do, it is your birthday after all. We'll come back in half an hour or so, so don't leave the shop."

"Yes Aunt Petunia," droned Rose as she stepped up onto the stool. At Madam Malkin's direction she unzipped her hoodie before pulling on a black robe that was longer in both arm and hem than was needed.

"Hello," said the blonde boy, "Heading to Hogwarts as well?"

Rose looked at the boy, "Uh, yeah."

The boy nodded, "My Father's next door buying my books, and Mother's down looking at wands."

"Oh, I just got mine," said Rose with a smile. "But I thought the wand picked the wizard?"

"Ah, Mother is quite knowledgeable in wandlore," explained the boy in a droll voice, as if he knew he was better than Rose. "After I find my wand, I'm going to drag them down to look at the racing brooks. I don't know why first years can't have them. I'll just have to figure out some way to smuggle one in."

"Ah," said Rose, who had just assumed it was something akin to how people couldn't drive until they knew how, but didn't speak up, not wanting to alienate a potential classmate.

The boy turned his head to look at Rose, "Do _you_ have your own broom?"

Rose shook her head as Madam Malkin pinned up the hem of the robe to mid-ankle, "No."

"Have you played Quidditch?"

Rose shook her head again, "No." By the question Rose assumed Quidditch was a game played by wizards on brooms, and was a co-ed sport, not exclusive to witches or wizards.

"Well, I _do_ have my own broom, and my father says that I'm a natural at Quidditch. He says that it's a crime if I won't play for my House," the boy said with an entitled tone. "Do you know what House you'll be in?"

"No," said Rose, continuing her one-word answers. She knew, at least, what the houses the snobbish boy was referring to were though. Aunt Petunia had told Rose about Gryffindor and Slytherin, the Houses her parents and Professor Snape, respectively, had been in. "Though, my parents were in Gryffindor," she added, hoping to not sound like an idiot.

The boy had a look of horror on his face at the admission, "Well, I just know I'm going to be in Slytherin; all my family's been there. I guess Gryffindor is better than Hufflepuff — I'd just leave if I was sorted there."

By now Rose had formed a solid picture of the young boy in her mind. Entitled, probably a pureblood from how he spoke, and his family was definitely from the side of the war that her parents had fought against. But, knowing that people weren't their parents, for she knew that for all his faults Dudley was a better person than Uncle Vernon, since he actually cared about Rose, she asked, "Are you a pureblood?"

The boy was confused at first, and then prideful, "But of course. The Malfoys have been pure for hundreds of years, and the Blacks on my mother's side as well." The young Malfoy then looked at the heap of the hooded sweatshirt that Rose had taken off for the robe fitting, "By the look of your apparel, I can assume that you, though, are not? I trust that at least both your parents were proper."

Rose scowled, "By proper you mean magical?" At Malfoy's nod, she continued, "Then yes, my mother and father both attended Hogwarts. My Aunt said that they were Head Boy and Girl their final year."

"Well, at least you're not a filthy mudblood," Malfoy said with a spit. "Father says that they shouldn't even allow mudbloods into Hogwarts. Imagine growing up, not knowing magic is real until you got your Hogwarts letter."

"By mudblood, you mean what? Remember, I wasn't raised in the magical world," Rose pointed out.

"Well, I guess you could call them muggle-born, that's the polite term," said Malfoy with a sneer. "Since your parents were magical, at least you're not a mud… uh, muggle-born."

"At least," said Rose with an unseen roll of her eyes.

"So…" said Malfoy thinking, "You parents were Head Boy and Girl, though one of them was muggle-born, based on your aunt." He paused, "Why are you here with your Aunt? Why bring a muggle to Diagon Alley when your parents are magical? And why were you raised as a muggle anyway?"

"They're dead," said Rose flatly.

"Oh, sorry," said Malfoy. For all the pureblood rhetoric his parents had given him, he had not been gifted with tact.

Madam Malkin stood up, "Ah, you're both done I see." She gestured at the fully pinned robes both Rose and Malfoy were wearing. With a wave of her wand the pins were removed from both robes and the hems were sewn. Another wave and two more robes for each Rose and Malfoy were brought into the air and hemmed to the same length as well. A third and final wave and the additional robes were folded and set down on a table. "Young Mr. Malfoy, we're done here, and I see your father has arrived."

Rose looked to the front of the store and noticed an aristocratic man with the same pale blond hair as his son. He was dressed impeccably, and stood with a cane in hand. Rose couldn't see where the books that he was supposed to get for his son were.

"Father," said the young Malfoy, stepping off the stool and running over.

"Draco," his father said, at which Draco slowed and walked in a dignified manner to his father's side.

"Just wait here dear, I'll be just a moment," Madam Malkin said to Rose before stepping away.

Rose couldn't hear what was said, but could hear gold changing hands. Then, suddenly, a small creature appeared next to the elder Malfoy. Draco's father then pointed the creature at the folded robes, which it gabbed before disappearing. Draco and his father then strode majestically out of the shop.

"Sorry about that dear, I tried to get him finished as quickly as possible," Madam Malkin admitted as she returned to Rose. "Now, let's get that robe off you and get the rest of your uniform fitted. Those muggle clothes simply won't do at all. I'll not have the last of the Potters ruining the lines of her robes with inferior workmanship. I dare say, are those off the rack?"

When Petunia and Dudley returned, with a large white owl in a cage, Rose was waiting with her three Hogwarts robes, her winter cloak, as well as a half dozen white blouses, three black ties, three grey v-neck woolen jumpers, one of them sleeveless, a half dozen knee-length grey skirts, a dozen folded black tights, and a pair of plain black shoes sitting on top. Madam Malkin had told Rose that the ties, jumpers and robes all had an "Affiliation Charm" which would decorate them with the appropriate House colors, and in the case of her robes, replace the generic Hogwarts crest with the House's, once she was sorted.

"Wow," said Dudley as he helped his cousin put her uniform into her trunk, "These are way cooler than my Smeltings uniform."

"Thanks for the owl Dudley," said Rose, hugging her cousin.

"Just make sure you send letters to mum and me," he replied, blushing.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> First, thanks to Pelehnar, my Beta-reader, for her excellent work in helping me write a more cogent story.

I gave Rose a large inheritance because the Potters are known to be an old pureblood family and most of the old pureblood families shown are quite rich. As for the value of the contents, I assumed five mounds of gold coins (less than a half-dozen, but more than a couple). Each mound, as I wrote, is three feet tall, and a similar number of feet in radius. Rounding down, that gives seven hundred coins thick and fifty coins in radius. Another rounding gives six thousand coins as the base. Since the volume of a cone is a third of its base times its height, and with more rounding, gives a million or so coins per mound. From there I just made up interesting sound numbers (for the precise and accurate comment). After that it was just a simple matter of math to give £102,662,338.72 to an eleven year old girl.

Also, I'm using the movie version of the uniform, with the nice layered look, rather than just a robe over underwear, which is apparently what was described in the books (which is quite disturbing, as a vanishing spell on the robe would quickly give you a full view of the former wearing). I'm basing my interpretation on the PoA and later movies, which I think look a bit more refined than the PS and CoS uniforms.


	5. Chapter 5

The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling.

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> Once again, this chapter has not been Beta-read. If anyone would like to apply for the position, please PM me. It would entail of, at a minimum, one chapter every three weeks, though I'd prefer to find a Beta-reader who could look over all my stories (one chapter each week, about 5000 words or so for each chapter).

* * *

><p>Dudley had seen Rose's new shoes, and after she'd explained that they were slightly magical, he inquired, "What do you mean by slightly magical?"<p>

"Well, Madam Malkin said that they were self-repairing, self-polishing, and they'd adjust to fit my feet for the next year or so. Plus, they're like the most comfortable pair of shoes I've ever worn. The only reason I'm not wearing them now is that they don't exactly go with my skirt," Rose replied.

Dudley was silent, "Okay, that's what I want."

"What?" asked Rose, confused.

"As my belated birthday present. That's what I want. I want slightly magical shoes," he replied. "You saw the shoes I have for my Smeltings uniform, I hate polishing my shoes. I don't' care how much Dad says that polishing shoes builds character, I want self-polishing shoes. Plus, they're really not that comfortable. They kind of pinch the middle of my feet."

"Dudley," Petunia interrupted, overhearing her son's comments about his shoes, "If they pinch your feet, how come you said they were fine?"

"Mum, they were the best pair of shoes in the shop," he explained.

"Well, if that's what you want?" offered Rose. "I was thinking of getting you that prank book."

"I thought of that, but those all require wands, these are already magical, so I don't need any magic to make them work," he countered. "Come on, you're so lucky that you get magic, why won't you let me have this little piece of your new world?" Although Dudley wasn't as spoiled as he could have been, Petunia trying to reign in her husband's preferential treatment of Dudley, he was still as skilled at whinging as he was when Rose had been dropped off at their front door.

"Okay, okay," said Rose defensively, "I'll get you the shoes."

Dudley smiled, "Awesome. I wonder if they'll do anything cool, like glow in the presence of orcs."

Both Rose and Petunia chuckled. While Dudley wasn't the best reader in his year, he had persuaded his father to get him the audiobook version of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, pretty much as soon as he saw the first trailer for the movie. It wouldn't be coming out for nearly five more months, but Dudley had spent a few hours every day, usually when he was doing his chores, listening to the books.

"Dudders," Rose said, a bit of mirth still in her voice, "I don't think Orcs are real, but if they are, I'll ask Madam Malkin to make sure your shoes glow, okay?"

* * *

><p>The next month was exciting at Number Four. Rose started to spend more and more time inside, reading her books and trying to understand how to turn words on a page into a swish, flick, and magic. Dudley was having fun trying to see if he could do anything to make his belated birthday present from his cousin rip, tear, or even stay dirty. Petunia was enjoying watching her non-magical son get the joy from magic that she hadn't been able to get when she was his age, when her sister was going off to Hogwarts like his cousin was.<p>

Vernon, on the other hand, was having a bad month. Not only was he forced to accept the strangeness that was his niece, though, he had to smile as his perfectly normal son was enjoying that same strangeness. This was a new experience for him, for before Rose had entered their lives, Vernon and Petunia had agreed that magic was strange, unnatural, and had no place in their lives. After he was forced to let Rose into their home, and into their lives, and in the case of his wife, into her heart, things only got slightly stranger, but Petunia was able to explain the strangeness to both Rose and Vernon, and get his niece to understand that if anything strange happened, accidentally, that it was perfectly natural, but she still shouldn't talk about it with her uncle. Now, though, a mere month until Rose left his home to go to the strange school, his son, his perfectly normal son, had begun to be corrupted by the strangeness of his niece.

Although, it would be nice to have shoes that he didn't have to worry about keeping clean. For one single moment, Vernon Dursley wondered if he could persuade his niece to get him a pair of magic golf shoes. Then he shook his head, realizing that while his life had become less normal, he was still perfectly normal, and he wouldn't allow himself to go down that path.

* * *

><p>"Have you got all your books?" asked Petunia just after sunrise on the first day of September.<p>

Rose nodded, but looked at her desk a third time, just in case, "Yep, all my books."

"And your uniform?" asked Petunia.

Rose looked down at herself. The shiny black shoes, black tights rising up her legs to disappear under the hem of her pleated grey skirt, a soft white blouse and black tie under her sleeveless grey jumper. With a nod, she looked at her aunt, "Yep. I'll put on the robe once I get on the train. Wouldn't want Uncle Vernon to have a heart attack." She let out a bit of a giggle.

"Don't antagonize your uncle, young lady. He loves you, but it's not his fault he doesn't like magic."

"I think he's just jealous," countered Rose as she went over to the large brass cage that sat on the edge of her desk. The large snowy owl barked as Rose stroked her wing through the bars of the cage.

"No matter. You packed your telescope?" asked Petunia, continuing down her list.

Rose nodded, then left her new favorite birthday present with a whispered "Bye Hedwig." She crossed to the trunk and opened it. A third of the interior space was taken up by another box, this one a textured black plastic. "Yep, telescope packed, though, I'm not sure why I couldn't have just gotten one of those cool collapsable ones they sold in the Alley."

Petunia shook her head, "Rose, I've told you before, this is a better telescope, plus, it used to be mine, and I want you to have it."

Rose smiled and crossed her room to hug her aunt, "I love you, Aunt Petunia."

Petunia retuned the hug, "I love you too, my little flower." After releasing the hung, Petunia looked again at her list, "Toiletries?"

Rose blushed a bit as she rushed out of her bedroom to the bathroom, grabbed the zip-up toiletry kit she'd had assembled last week and had been using in an effort to get used to it since, and ran back to her room, "Got it."

As Rose was putting it into her trunk her aunt spoke up, "Perhaps you should take that with you in your backpack."

"Why?" asked Rose, leaning over her trunk, toiletry kit in hand, and looking over her shoulder.

"Toothbrush? You might need to fix your hair, or your forehead?" asked Petunia.

Rose blushed and set the kit aside, "Anything else?"

"Books, uniform, supplies, telescope, toiletries, ah, lunch," said Petunia looking down her list.

"Lunch? We aren't getting lunch before?" asked Rose.

Petunia shook her head, "No, the train leaves at eleven, so we'll have brunch in town, but it'll probably be best to take a lunch, or at least a late lunch, with you. It's a few hours up to Scotland, and Lily always complained that all she had to eat on the train was candy."

Rose looked defeated, "Aw, but I wanted some candy."

Petunia chuckled, "Candy's all well and good, but I wouldn't be a good aunt if I allowed you to only eat candy on your way to school."

"So what's for lunch?" asked Rose.

"We'll probably pick up some take away, maybe some fast food."

Rose shook her head, "Nah, the chips get a bit soggy when they get cold, but I'd love curry or something."

"Okay, we'll pick up some take away before we get to King's Cross," confirmed Petunia, crossing the last item off her list.

"So, can we go now?" asked Rose, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet.

Petunia shook her head, "You're just like your mother. Lily couldn't wait to go to Hogwarts. She had packed everything a week in advance, and then repacked it again every day, sometimes twice, just to make sure she had everything."

Rose looked back over her bedroom. In addition to he uniform, books, and school supplies that were on the list from Hogwarts, she'd also packed a few other things. The most important of those was Paddy, a black stuffed dog she'd won at a carnival last summer. She didn't know why, but she always felt safer when she slept with the stuffed animal. Only slightly less important was a small box of books that her aunt had given her for her tenth birthday. They used to be her mother's, the three books of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and the seven books of the Chronicles of Narnia. All were slightly worn, and had received a bit more wear in the year since she'd received them, but she cherished them as a connection to her mother.

She then shoved her toiletry bag into her backpack, right on top of her folder robe, along with her diary in the bottom, as well as a couple of notebooks to supplement the parchment that her aunt had told her was used nearly exclusively at Hogwarts. In addition to the quills and ink that she'd picked up on her birthday, she also had a couple mechanical pencils and a fountain pen (she hoped she'd be able to use the fountain pen rather than the quills, since it was easier to write with, not as easy as a biro, but easier nonetheless).

* * *

><p>The three of them, Petunia, Rose, and Dudley, who didn't start at Smeltings until Monday, drove all the way into London, rather then just to the nearest Underground station like they had for their trip to Diagon Alley. Dudley, still wearing his "magic shoes", helped his cousin lift her trunk out of the back of the estate and onto a trolley.<p>

"So where's the train leaving from?" asked Dudley, who was pushing the trolley. Rose wore her backpack, its deep red contrasting with the grays and blacks of her uniform, and tried to carry Hedwig in her cage in front her her, but then decided to put it on top of her trunk before pulling the ticket out of the small purse she wore as well, "King's Cross Station, Platform Nine and Three Quarters."

"Nine and what?" asked Dudley.

"Three Quarters," said Rose, hesitantly. She then looked to her aunt, "Do you know anything about this?"

Petunia shrugged, "Well, Lily and I didn't get along very well, so I never came with Mum and Dad when they dropped her off, or when they picked her up. But, I do know that they always did it at King's Cross, so, I assume it'll be the fine."

Rose grimaced, but the joy of going to Hogwarts overloaded her apprehension and she continued to enjoy the day immensely.

As they left the parking lot and walked into the station proper. The inside of the station was loud, the vaulted ceilings only slightly dampening the cacophony of thousands of passengers.

"I don't see it," said Rose, looking at the platform signs.

"I don't even see a platform nine, let along three quarters," noted Petunia.

Dudley pointed across the space to a small passage on the other side of the eighth platform, "What about over there?"

Petunia squinted, and saw a sign for platforms nine, ten, and eleven, "Ah, well, at least that's closer."

As they made their way down the small passage that linked the main terminal of the station to the side platforms, Rose smiled as she saw something familiar, a young man wearing a similar uniform, pushing a trolley loaded with a trunk, "Aunt Petunia, look, he's wearing a Hogwarts uniform too."

"And he didn't have his cousin push he trunk, and his owl, all the way from the car," noted Dudley.

"Thanks Dudders," said Rose, giving her favorite, and only, cousin a one-armed hug.

They watched as the boy pushed his trolley towards a wall, then prompt disappeared.

"What happened?" asked Dudley.

"I think it's a bit like the Leaky Cauldron," said Rose. "though a bit more disguised."

"I wish Severus had told us how to do this," said Petunia off-handedly.

"Come on, where's the fun in that?" asked Rose as she cautiously walked up to the section of wall the boy had disappeared into. "Okay, well, looks solid enough." She turned away from the wall, took a few steps away from it, turned back, set her shoulders, gripped her purse strap and strode towards the wall.

Dudley and Petunia both looked astonished as Rose stepped towards, and then through the wall.

They stayed silent until a few seconds later Rose stepped back through the wall, her face awash with emotion and a giant smile spreading across it, "Come on, you've got to see this, it's brilliant!"

* * *

><p>Rose pulled her aunt and cousin through the entrance onto Platform 9 34, grinning nearly maniacally the entire time.

"So, what do you think?" asked Rose.

"It's a train," said Dudley, trying to hide any sort of emotion.

"It's beautiful," said Petunia softly.

The scarlet steam engine was almost directly in front of them, and leading away from them was the tender, and then a line of coaches. They were early, so the platform wasn't that busy, only a dozen or so families saying goodbye.

Rose stepped back, almost to the entrance, and took a snapshot with her camera. As he heard the click, Dudley turned and glared at Rose, "What'd you do that for?"

Petunia turned as well, seeing Rose still with the camera to her face, and then smiled just before Rose took another picture. "Thank you," said Petunia, "I've been waiting a long time for this."

"What?" asked Dudley. "But it's been, like, six weeks, tops, since she got her letter. How could you have been waiting a long time in six weeks?"

"Dudders," said Rose with a sigh, letting the camera drop to hang from her hand, and walking up to her cousin. "My mum, she's been waiting since she fell out with my mum, like, twenty years or something. Didn't you pay attention when she talked about how she wanted to go to Hogwarts herself?"

"Oh," said Dudley, turning away from Rose to hide his blush of embarrassment.

"It's alright," said Petunia. She extended her hand to Rose, "Here, let me get a picture of you."

Rose handed off the camera, before stepping away and standing in front of the engine.

"No," said Petunia, shaking her head. "That just won't do." He bit her bottom lip in thought, "Ah, why don't you push your trunk, or at least, look like it. It'll be like you're really going off to school."

Rose nodded as she grabbed her trolley with her trunk and Hedwig's cage and posed in front of the Engine. She mimed pushing the trolley down the platform, as she looked over her shoulder at her aunt with the camera.

Dudley rolled his eyes as Petunia took the photo.

"Perfect," said Petunia with a bit of a giggle.

Rose came over and gave her aunt and hug before taking the camera back.

"So, you're going to take pictures, right?" asked Petunia.

Rose nodded, "Yep, and I'll make sure I get a bunch of the castle. You always went on about wishing that mum had shown you how it looked."

"Thanks Rose," said Petunia, giving her niece another hug. Behind them, Dudley rolled his eyes.

* * *

><p>During the next hour the platform filled considerably, as the various families of the students streamed through the entrance to see their children off to school.<p>

"Now, don't forget, your uncle and I are going to New York next week, so make sure you send your letters to Mrs. Figg, alright? Wouldn't want Hedwig to get tired flying across the Atlantic, now would we?" said Petunia as she gave a final hug to Rose.

Rose returned the hug, and then stuck her thumbs through the straps of her backpack, "I'll do that Aunt Petunia. Are you going to take the Concorde?"

Petunia shook her head, "No, you know your uncle, he claims he wants to save money, but you know it's because he didn't want to sit in those tiny seats." The two of them shared a bit of a giggle while Dudley, in his capacity as the resident male, and being a bit on the large side himself, just rolled his eyes.

Rose then stepped over to her cousin, and gave him a unreciprocated hug. Once she stepped back, she gave him a bit of a glare, "Am I not good enough for you Dudders?"

Dudley shrugged, "No, I just, well, all these people around, I don't want them to think I'm soft."

Rose rolled her eyes, an expression she'd learned from him, and shook her head, "Dudley, there's hundreds, maybe even a thousand or more people on this platform. I don't think anyone here is going to care that you gave your cousin a hug before she went off to school. I didn't when I gave you one, since you're going off to school too."

Dudley blushed, and then stepped forward and gave Rose a quick hug, "There, you happy now?"

Rose giggled, "Good enough, but I'll make sure you give me a proper hug at Christmas."

"You going to get me anything?" asked Dudley, his natural avarice showing through.

"If, and that's a big if, I can figure out something, yeah, I'll get you something for Christmas. From what your mum told me about my mum's time there, though, I won't be able to leave the grounds until third year, so I'll see if I can persuade an older student to pick something up for me. Maybe see if they have any snow globes."

Dudley groaned, being reminded of the gift his Aunt Marge had given him from her trip to Canada last year, a rather kitschy snow globe of Toronto.

"I'll miss you Rose," said Dudley.

"I'll miss you too Dudders, I'll make sure Aunt Petunia gets my letters sent off you to, unless you're still begin a stick in the mud about not getting any mail at your new school."

Dudley blushed, "No, it's alright, you can write to me if you want, but I won't guarantee I'll write back."

Petunia chose this opportunity to interrupt the conversation, "Alright, I'll have words with you, young man, about how to be nice to your cousin, but it'll have to wait. It's time for her to go." She then turned to Rose, "Have fun Rose, and don't get into any trouble, at least, not too much."

"I love you too, Aunt Petunia," said Rose, as she bent down, picked up Hedwig's cage, and turned to the train.

The final whistle echoed through the magical platform as Rose turned one last time to wave goodbye to her aunt and cousin, before stepping onto the nearest carriage, cage in hand, backpack on her back, and trunk safely checked so she wouldn't lose it.


	6. Chapter 6

The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling.

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> Once again, another chapter of _Rose Potter and the Two-Faced Man_, and Rose has finally made it onto the Hogwarts Express (since I wasn't up to writing all these scenes last time), and made it all the way to the sorting. Who will she meet on the train, what friends and enemies will she make, and will her closest allies bear a resemblance to the canonical Golden Trio?

* * *

><p>Rose took little time in finding an empty compartment for herself, and slipped her backpack off as he sat next to the window. After a bit of investigation, she gave Dudley and Petunia as wave, but either they didn't see her or she wasn't as obvious as she'd thought, because they hadn't waved back. She also saw behind her aunt and cousin a gaggle of red-heads storm through the magical barrier and onto the platform. There were four kids and their mother, and all were wearing clothes that looked both out of date, and well worn. The oldest two were twins, and quickly found a dark-skinned student with dreadlocks and a suspicious looking box waiting on the platform, before heading towards the rear of the train. The youngest was a girl, and she was the only one of the children without a trunk in tow. The middle child was a boy about Rose's age, perhaps only a year older than his sister, and was looking for something, or someone, on the platform.<p>

Rose looked away from the silent drama of the late arriving red-heads and sank into the cushioned bench. She pulled out her backpack and dug through it, realizing that in her haste to pack, she'd not given herself anything to pass the time. Hours she'd have before she arrived at Hogwarts, and all she had to distract herself was her wand, a couple of blank notebooks, her diary, and some take away.

Before Rose could succumb to ennui. the compartment door slid open and in popped the youngest of the red-heads that had boarded the train, "Mind if I sit here?"

Rose shook her head and gestured to the five empty spots in the compartment, "Take a seat, any seat."

"Thanks," said the red-headed boy to the auburn haired girl as he pulled his trunk into the compartment and struggled to lift it up onto the overhead rack. Once he had it situated he looked over at Rose, sitting with just her red muggle backpack as luggage, "Where's your trunk?"

"Checked it," she replied. "Got here early enough that I didn't have to negotiate it through the train."

The boy blushed, "Yeah, mum was waiting for somebody out in the muggle part of the station, but when she didn't show up, we had to rush to make the train."

"Who?" asked Rose.

"Um…" the boy blushed again, "You're going to find this silly, but the Headmaster asked mum to make sure that Rose Potter was able to make it safely onto the train."

Rose had a look of amazement flush across her face before scowl settled, "And why would Rose Potter need help onto the train?"

"Well, she wasn't raised in our world, you know. Raised my muggles he told mum, so she wouldn't know how to get onto the platform."

"Ah," said Rose, her opinion of the red-head, as well as the Headmaster, lowering slightly. "So, do you think she made it?" she asked about herself.

The boy shrugged as the train lurched into motion, "I hope so, but if we weren't able to help her get here, how'd she make it?"

"Perhaps she got here early and followed another student?" asked Rose, describing exactly what she'd done.

"Could've," he said with a noncommittal shrug. He then extended his hand in greeting, "Where are my manners, Ron Weasley."

Rose paused a second to think before taking his hand and lying, "Call me Dorea, Dorea Dursley."

"Nice to meet you Dorea," he said, giving her hand a shake. After he released it he sat back to relax in the soft cushioning of the bench, "Don't recognize your name, muggle-born or half-blood?"

"My mum was muggle born, so i guess I'm a half blood, right?" replied Rose.

Ron nodded, "Sure, as long as your dad was a wizard too, otherwise you're muggle-born through him."

"Yeah, he was a wizard," replied Rose. "They're dead though."

Ron nodded, "Lots of kinds our age are missing parents. I'm lucky that mum and dad already had Bill and Charlie when the war started, or else I'd probably be an orphan too."

"Well, my aunt and uncle took me in, raised me as their own," clarified Rose. "Guess I'm lucky too."

Ron nodded, and the pair slipped into companionable silence for a few minutes as the Express wound its way out of the Kings Cross yards and began its journey northwards.

* * *

><p>A few hours later, after Ron had shown Rose, or "Dorea" as he called her, his pet rat, Scabbers, who didn't seem to do anything other than sleep, and after the lady with the sweets trolley came by, which was liberally raided by both Ron and Rose, though Rose paid for most of it, and Ron mooched most of Rose's sweets, the two took out their lunches.<p>

"What's that?" asked Ron, looking at the styrofoam box Rose gingerly took out of the paper bag in her backpack.

"Take away," said Rose with a smile. She then removed the paper napkins and plastic utensils from the bottom of the bag before opening the box and revealing the food inside. Large chunks of chicken, smaller bits of vegetables, and a orange-red sauce over a bed of rice.

Ron shook a sniff, and then looked at the four paper wrapped sandwiches he'd pulled from a pocket of his robe, "Smells better than my corned beef. Mum always forgets I don't like corned beef. What is it Dor'?"

Rose rolled her eyes as the nickname that Ron had come up for her, "Chicken masala on a bed of rice. Helps to keep the mess inside the take away box."

"Wanna trade?" asked Ron. "Iv'e never had chicken tickle mess-a-la, but it sure smells better than a corned beef sandwich."

"Ron," sighed Rose, "It wasn't bad enough to took half my chocolate frogs, or that you had most of that bag of beans, but now you want to me to switch my take away for your corned beef sandwiches? I think not."

"Not all of them," Ron harrumphed, and then glared at Rose as he begrudgingly ate his corned beef sandwiches, while Rose started on her curry. Ron had finished his sandwiches quicker than Rose had expected, considering he claimed he didn't like corned beef, and by the time she was halfway through her take away, and mostly full, considering the appetizer of sweets she'd had, Ron was looking longingly at her lunch.

"Okay," said Rose in defeat, "You can have the rest of it." She passed the styrofoam box across the compartment to Ron while she used one of her napkins to clean any residue from her face. She was just about to offer Ron her fork when she looked up and saw him scooping the chicken, sauce, and rice into his mouth with his hand. "Ron!"

"What?" asked Ron, looking up from the now nearly three-quarters empty take away box.

"Would you like to use my fork?"

"Yeah, thanks," said Ron, reaching out with his sauce covered hand. Rose gingerly held out the fork, which she'd wiped with her napkin, and snatched her hand back as soon as Ron had hold of the plastic utensil. He quickly started eating again, using the fork much like he'd used his hand moments previous, and within another minute, perhaps two, he'd polished off the dish.

"Napkin?" offered Rose, as Ron was about to wipe his hand clean on his robe.

"Oh, thanks," he said with a smile, taking the last of Rose's napkins. "You're the best Dor'."

"Don't mention it," said Rose. She then added, sot to voce, "Please."

After Ron had cleaned up, including his face after Rose had reminded him, they packed away their refuse and leaned back to continue their leisurely afternoon ride to Hogwarts.

About half on hour later, the compartment door opened up, and a girl, perhaps a year older than Rose, stuck her head in, "Have either of your seen a toad? Neville's lost his."

Rose shook her head, "Nah, haven't seen one, you?" She looked at Ron as she finished her question.

Ron shook his head, "Nope, no toad. Just this fat, useless rat."

The girl, her bushy hair bouncing with the motion of the carriage, cringed upon seeing the rat, "Eww, don't you know that rat's are some of the dirtiest and most disease ridden creatures in Britain?"

Ron shrugged, "Don't know about the rest of the rats, but Scabbers here ain't dirty or diseased. He doesn't do anything to get dirty, and he's old enough that if he was sick, he'd have died by now."

"How old is he?" asked the girl.

"Not sure," said Ron. "Percy's had him for ages, at least until he got his owl when he became a prefect, so, ten years, maybe eleven?"

Both Rose and the girl looked surprised, before the girl spoke up, "That can't be right. Rats have a natural lifespan of three to four years, even in captivity, unless he's like a magic rat or something."

Ron picked up Scabbers and looked into his beady black eyes, "Don't think he's magical, just an old, useless rat." He then put down the rat and dug in one of the pockets of his robes, before pulling out his wand. It was chipped in places, battered, and a white bit was sticking out of the end, "Okay, let's see if he'll be a bit less useless."

"That's your wand?" asked the girl, as she slipped fully into the compartment and sat down on the opposite end of Rose's bench.

"Well, it was Charlie's first, he's my second oldest brother. When he passed his NEWTs last year, mum and dad took him to get a new wand, and I got his old one," explained Ron.

"It's only, what, seven galleons for a new wand? That's what, a hundred forty pounds?" asked Rose.

"One hundred twenty four pounds ninety-five," corrected the girl. "At August's exchange rate, that is. Now that it's September, the goblins might have re-adjusted the rate to reflect the price of gold."

"What she said. But anyway, I know it's a bit of money, but surely they could have afforded to get you a new wand. I mean, Ollivander told me that the wand chooses the witch, surely you'd do better with a new wand, right?"

"I don't know about you," said Ron indignantly, "But not everybody's family has seven galleons to throw around for new wands. Percy got new robes for being a Prefect, and a new owl, but could they have spent a few galleons to at least get me a used wand that was matched to me? No, nothing's ever good enough for ickle-Ronnikens. They even said that Ginny'll get a new wand when she goes to Hogwarts next year."

"Sorry, didn't meant to bring up anything that bad," said Rose apologetically.

"No, it's not your fault Dor'," said Ron. "It's just, well, I'm the sixth of seven, and the last boy. Bill was Head Boy his last year, Charlie, he was Quidditch captain, Percy's a Prefect, and the Twins, well, they're the twins. Even Ginny's special as the only girl. I'm just Ron, never going to do anything better than my brothers, why should I get anything special?"

"It's alright Ron. I think you're pretty nice, a bit of a hog when it comes to eating, but I'm sure you'll find the thing you're good at," consoled Rose.

"So, were you going to do anything with that wand before you digressed?" asked the girl. "Otherwise I've still got to help Neville find his toad."

"Well, the Twins, they taught me this spell yesterday, said it'd turn Scabbers here yellow," admitted Ron.

"Cool," said Rose.

"Go on," encouraged the bushy haired girl.

"Here goes," said Ron, putting a now sleeping Scabbers on his lap and gently circling the wand over the rat. "_Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow; turn this stupid, fat rat yellow._"

When nothing happened Ron slumped, defeated.

"Are you even sure that's a real spell?" asked the girl. "It's not a very good one either way. I tried a few simple spells, just for practice mind you, and none of them sounded like that, and every one of them worked." She took a brief moment to take a breath, then continued, "Nobody in my family is magic, least I don't think so, so it was a big surprise when I got my letter. I was pleased, sure, it's the best school for witchcraft in Europe, or so they say. I've read all our course books, know then by heart, even picked up a couple other books so I'm not too far behind."

"Wow, that's a mouthful," quipped Ron as the girl finally stopped talking.

"Ron, be nice," chided Rose.

"Thanks," said the girl to Rose. "I'm Hermione Granger."

"Ron Weasley," he interrupted before Rose could speak. "And that's Dorea Dursley. She's a half-blood, while I'm a pureblood."

Rose glared at Ron, though she wasn't sure if it was because of him perpetuating the name she's given when he was a bit of a git, or because she thought she'd insulted Hermione by claiming to be a pureblood, implying that, since she was a first generation witch, she was less than he was, even though she'd already shown she was smarter, or at least more prepared. "Thanks Ron," she scowled.

"You're welcome," the slightly oblivious wizard said with a smile. "Happy to help."

"Speaking of helping," said Rose. "Hermione, why don't we both look for Neville's toad."

"Oh, thanks," said Hermione, standing up.

"You're just going to leave me here?" asked Ron, standing up himself.

"Unless you want to come with?" offered Rose.

"Nah, don't want anyone to mess with my trunk," countered Ron, as he sat back down.

"Suit yourself," said Rose, before she slung her backpack over one shoulder and followed Hermione out into the passage.

* * *

><p>"Hey Dor', 'Mione, find the toad?" asked Ron as first Rose and then Hermione re-entered the compartment.<p>

"No such luck," replied the boy that followed them.

"Ah, Neville, sorry about your toad," offered Ron. "I'd offer you Scabbers, but he's of even less use."

"No problem," said Neville as he sat down opposite Hermione as the girls resumed their previous seats.

"So, now what?" asked Rose.

"Hope they find him when they clean out the train in Hogsmede I suspect," offered Ron. "They usually find half a dozen pranks by the Twins that way, so a lost toad shouldn't be that hard."

"He's hoping," confirmed Rose. By now her falsehood of being Dorea Dursley had spread beyond the compartment, with Hermione introducing her as such to half the students they'd encountered on their expedition. Her single act of trying to be somewhat normal with Ron had snowballed into a house of cards that she knew would collapse, and following Murphy's Law, would do so at the worst possible time, so, like a bandage, she decided to get the pain over with on her own terms.

"Guys," Rose began with a sigh, "Um, I need to tell you something."

"What is it Dorea?" asked Hermione. "We're your friends, you can tell us anything."

"Well, you see…" began Rose, before she was interrupted by the compartment door opening.

In stepped three boys, and Rose recognized the apparent leader as the blond snob from the robe shop. She paused, trying to remember the boy's name, it was astronomy related, she thought, or perhaps an animal of some sort.

"Ah, the perfect collection of undesirables," the blond sneered as the larger and dimmer companions loomed silently. "The blood traitor," he said, looking at Ron. His gaze then fell upon Neville, "The squib. The Mudblood," he looked at Hermione now, and then, finally, looked at Rose, "And the half-blood. Dorea was it?"

"What do you want Malfoy?" asked Ron before Rose could correct the blond, Malfoy, as well as her new friends.

"Oh, just making sure that my fellow students, that would be you," he sneered, "knew their place before we got to Hogwarts. My father is on the Board of Governors, which means that I'll be able to do whatever I please."

"That's abuse of power," said Hermione naively.

Malfoy grinned at the muggle-born witch, "Yes, ain't it grand? And, what's better, is that there's nothing you can do about it. The lot of you are powerless, and once I've wooed the Girl-Who-Lived, I'll have cemented the power of the Malfoys within Britain."

"Come on, how are you going to woo Rose Potter? Your father was a Death Eater, and probably tried to kill her parents," countered Ron with what Rose was thinking was his usual lack of tact or sense.

"Ah, but my godfather was friends with her mother, and through him, I'll be able to convince her to ally herself with me," the blond gloated.

"And what if she hears about you beforehand?" asked Rose, already deciding that she'd never give Malfoy the time of day, let alone let him 'woo' her.

"Ah, but I've already checked, and although my godfather has confirmed she'll be at Hogwarts, she's not on the train, which means that she'll never know about it until it's too late, if at all," countered Malfoy, unknowingly telling his plan to the girl he was attempting to deceive.

"So that's your grand plan? Antagonize the rest of the students, 'woo' an unknowing Girl-Who-Lived with whatever charms you can muster, and what then?" asked Hermione, already disliking the boy because of his slander against her heritage, not to mention his duplicitous plans for a seemingly ignorant heroine.

"Ah, but once she's fallen for me, and once she marries me, I'll have control of the Potter fortune. Added to the already considerable Malfoy estate, and I'll be the richest wizard in Britian. Once my cousin," he paused to smile, "who just so happens to be both her godfather and her betrayer, Sirius, dies in Azkaban, I'll also inherit the Black fortune as the next Lord Black, and cement myself as the most powerful wizard in Britain."

Rose was speechless, she didn't know that her godfather, whom she'd never remembered meeting anyway, had betrayed her parents. The others were speechless as well, for their own reasons.

Finally Malfoy turned, and after passing between his still silent companions, left the compartment.

"Well, that was uncomfortable," said Hermione.

"Understatement of the year, 'Mione. Understatement of the year," commented Ron.

"Ron," scolded Hermione, "It's 'Hermione', not 'Mione'. If you're going to use me name, use the entire name, not just the end of it."

Rose chuckled, her former plan of revealing her minor duplicity forgotten as she thought of how disappointed Malfoy would be once he realized he'd revealed his entire grand plan to her.

"Fucking Draco," mumbled Neville.

"Neville, language," chided Hermione, which elicited a chuckle from both Ron and Rose.

* * *

><p>"Not to bring up Draco again," began Rose about half an hour later, "but he did remind me of something."<p>

"A vampire?" offered Ron.

"M-m-most annoying thing in the world?" counter-offered Neville.

"Ignore them Dorea, what did he remind you of?" questioned Hermione.

"That I don't was to be a Slytherin," said Rose with a smile.

"So, Gryffindor then?" asked Ron. "That's where I'll be. All the Weasleys are Gryffindors, always have been, always will be. Even Percy the git is a Gryffindor."

"It's not nice to call your brother a git," chided Hermione.

"Even if he is one?" questioned Ron.

Hermione nodded, "Yes, even if he is one. I think I'll be a Gryffindor too. I heard that Dumbledore himself was in Gryffindor, though, I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be to bad."

"You sound like a Ravenclaw," joked Ron. "All 'I read this', and 'Did you know that'."

"Well, unlike some people, I've only had a few months to learn about magic. Plus, I like reading," said Hermione indignantly.

Rose smiled, "Hey, I like reading too, though, I limited myself to only reading my textbooks once."

"You actually read your textbooks?" asked Ron, surprised.

"Hey, like Hermione, I really didn't know about magic until I went to Diagon Alley. Sure, I knew about it, Aunt Pertunia made sure I heard all the stories about my mum and dad, but, well, they were just stories. They explained why I could do those weird things every once in a while."

"Accidental magic," explained Hermione unnecessarily. "I got a book down from one of the top shelves, levitated it right down in front of my dad. He was freaked. Proud, but freaked."

"Thanks for that example, Hermione," said Rose sarcastically. "But, as I was saying, I knew _of_ magic, but I didn't know _about_ magic. So, yeah, I read my books after I got them. They were one more connection I had with my mum and dad. One day, many years ago, they too were going off to Hogwarts, and if what my aunt said about my mum was true, she would have read them all before getting there too."

"So, another Ravenclaw," said Ron with a smirk. "I guess we'll leave the learning to you two, while we have the adventure, right Neville?"

"I g-g-guess," stuttered Neville. "Mum and dad were G-g-gryffind-d-dors, so I'll be one too."

"Either that or a 'Puff," said Ron with a joke.

"Hey, what's wrong with bard work and being loyal?" asked Hermione.

"There's nothing wrong with being loyal, but Hufflepuff is for everyone else. The pureblood bigots go to Slytherin, the bookworms go to Ravenclaw, the heroes go to Gryffindor, and everyone else goes to Hufflepuff. Everybody knows that."

"Ron, you're talking to a pair of muggle-raised witches, so, yeah, not everybody knows," reminded Rose.

"Sorry Dor'," blushed Ron.

Rose once again was reminded that she wanted to tell her new friends that she really wasn't Dorea Dursley, but instead was Rose Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived. But, she just couldn't figure out how to start. And after Draco 'I'm going to marry Rose Potter' Malfoy… Actually, now that she thought about it, she only gave Ron her middle name because he was Ron 'I'm going to marry Rose Potter' Weasley.

"So, why don't we all try for Gryffindor?" asked Hermione, interrupting Rose's thoughts. "That way, we can still be friends once we're there."

The group all nodded, and that, as they say, is that.

* * *

><p><strong>"We will reach Hogsmede Station in five minutes' time,"<strong> echoed a voice throughout the train. **"All students are reminded to leave your luggage on the train, as it will be taken to the school separately."**

"Everyone ready?" asked Hermione excited.

Ron looked down at his second hand school robe, which his mother had re-charmed with the allegiance charm (although he questioned her reasoning, since he was destined for Gryffindor like his brothers before him anyway), and showed just the Hogwarts crest, albeit slightly worn, over his right chest. He then looked up at Hermione, "Yeah, got my uniform all set. Can't wait for dinner, I'm starving."

Rose looked amazed at Ron, "Ron, you ate four corned beef sandwiches and half my chicken masala, and that was, what, four, five hours ago? How can you be hungry again?"

"I'm a growing boy?" offered Ron, as the train began to slow to a stop.

"You keep eating like that, and you'll do more growing out than up," chided Rose, who stood, smoothed her black robe over her skirt, and swung her backpack onto her back.

"Leave him be," offered Neville. "It's not like they'll run of of f-f-food at Hog-g-gwarts."

"Breathe Neville," commanded Hermione. "I used to stutter too when I was a little girl, but if you just take a breath, it'll come out a lot smoother. Plus, it'll help you with your nerves."

Neville took a calming breath, "Thanks Hermione. I just d-don't want to embarrass my grand mum."

"Almost got it Nev'," offered Rose in praise. "And yeah, I don't want to embarrass my aunt and uncle either. Well, mainly my aunt, my uncle doesn't exactly like me."

"I'm sorry Dorea," said Hermione, smoothing her own robe as she stood in the compartment as well.

Rose shrugged, masking the wince as her new friend calling her by her middle name, "Not your fault. He's not big on magic, but he loves my aunt, so he puts up with me."

Just then the train made a slight lurch as it stopped, and the corridor outside began to fill with students thronging out of the carriage. The four friends slid open the compartment door and joined the crowd as it made its way out of the carriage and joined the growing crowd on the small, dark platform.

Just as Rose was looking around for something other than the train behind her and the students around her, she saw a lantern bobbing above the crowd of students. Upon closer inspection she saw that a massive man, practically a giant, nearly twelve feet tall, with curly black hair and beard, was holding it. At first she was afraid, but then, she was the giant of a man smile, and then bellow, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

The four friends looked at each other and silently shrugged before pushing through the crowd, the majority of which seemed to be headed for the other end of the platform.

"C'mon, follow me — any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Less than a seventh — as the war that had ended with the death of Rose's parents had either killed or delayed many families and had, therefore, made this year's class of first years one of the smallest since the middle of the twentieth century — of the crowd followed the half-giant away from the platform, down a gentle tree-lined path, and out onto a rocky beach.

"Wow," said Rose as she saw the lit castle across the dark waters.

"I didn't think it'd be so big," said Hermione. "_Hogwarts, A History_ said that it was the largest castle in Britain, but I guess I just didn't understand what that meant."

"Pretty nice too, if what my brothers say is true," noted Ron. "Loads of empty classrooms, since there aren't as many students as there used to be, so there's lots of pranking opportunities, at least, so the Twins said."

"No more'n four to a boat," shouted the half-giant, and as he said so, the four friends finally noticed the ten small boats, and one larger boat, beached on the rocky shore.

Ron lead them to the nearest boat, and helped both Rose and Hermione into the boat before finally helping Neville, who was still searching for his toad, Trevor, and taking his seat.

"Everybody in?" asked Hagrid after settling himself alone into the largest boat. "Right then — FORWARD!"

With that, the eleven boats, lead by the largest, set off across the still waters of the lake, and towards the cliffs below Hogwarts. About halfway there Rose could make out something large briefly break the surface of the lake before disappearing back into the inky depths.

The flotilla headed for a small cave at the base of the cliff, which caused the half-giant to shout, "Heads down!" The new students obliged, and after a short while, the boats spread out again and beached themselves on the rocky shore of a small cove, its walls lit with blue-flamed torches. The two score of eleven-year olds scrabbled out of the boats in their excitement, followed by their half-giant escort, who began checking the boats.

"Oi, you there! Is this yer toad?" asked Hagrid, holding up a brown toad.

"Trevor!" shouted Neville, as he ran over and took the errant amphibian from the groundskeeper, who then lead the students up a long stairway carved into the rock, which, when it came out above ground, opened into a small courtyard with smooth, damp grass.

The assembled students were then lead up a wider, but much shorter, staircase to a pair of large, iron-bound oak doors, each decorated with a single draconic grotesque with a large iron ring.

As the half-giant took hold of one of the rings and banged three times on the door, Rose smiled, and in her best Gene Wilder impersonation said, "What knockers."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> So, yes, it's different, if only because of the change that Rose didn't meet the Weasleys like Harry did (and yes, I'm taking the stance that Molly was shouting about Nine and Three-Quarters, even though she'd had two sons already graduate from Hogwarts, to make sure Harry found it. Even though Snape was Rose's magical introduction rather than Hagrid, I still think Dumbledore would have sent the Weasleys, just in case.

As for Ron, and Draco, and their opinion of Rose, well, take Ginny, and then amplify it by the fact that, whichever family marries Rose gets the Potter money without having to take the Potter name. If I ever get to my Epilogue I'll address this point, but until then, it'll just be a background plot plaint that helps explain some of the changes in attitude from canon.

As for the Dorea Dursley thing, I thought it would be funny, and we'll see the fallout from that during and after the sorting. And yes, it will be putting a strain on the new friendships. I also integrated Neville earlier because he's such a strong character in the later books, but Rowling didn't know (or so it seems) what to do with him in the first few books.

**Recommendation:** This week's recommendation is _Wizard Behind the Wheel_ by **willyolioleo** (FF(dot)net ID #7336803).


	7. Chapter 7

The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling.

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><p><strong>Note: <strong>I didn't get as much done on this chapter as I wanted to, so I'm going to be putting up a second chapter of _Rose Potter and the Two-Faced Man_ next week, a bit of a Christmas gift for you all.

* * *

><p>A couple of muggleborn chuckled at Rose's comment, while most of the purebloods looked at her oddly. Before any could ask her why some had found it funny, one of the doors opened, revealing a severe looking witch with her salt-and-pepper hair in a tight bun.<p>

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," declared Hagrid.

"Thank you Hagrid, I'll take them from here," she said, her tone telling all the assembled first years that she would broker no misconduct.

As Hagrid stepped away, the doors pulled open at a wave of the Professor's wand, and she began to walk into the cavernous room beyond, "Follow me children."

The hall enough to fit the entirety of Number Four Privet Drive into, with a bit of space left over to walk around. The stone walls were lit with torches, the same blue flame as the ones down in the harbor below the school. Rose couldn't quite make out the ceiling in the dim light, but the wide marble staircase on the opposite side was quite evident.

Professor McGonagall lead her charges through the entrance hall to a door, which lead to a small chamber. Based on the noises she had heard as they crossed the hall, the rest of the student population was already assembled. The room they were lead into appeared to have just enough room for the students, as long as they stood a bit closer together than they felt comfortable doing.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," spoke Professor McGonagall, her voice carrying through to the back of the room. "The start-of-term feast will begin shortly, but before you can take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be Sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because while you are here at Hogwarts, your House will be a sort of surrogate family. You will take your classes with your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room."

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts you will share your triumphs and failures with your House. Your successes will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points will win the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each and every one of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest," and she paused to look over the assembled students, some of whom wore their uniforms in a less than satisfactory manner, "you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

"I shall return when we are ready for you, please wait quietly," the Scotch witch said, then turned and exited the room, a brief burst of sound from the room beyond accompanying her exit.

"How exactly do the sort us into Houses?" asked Hermione.

Rose shrugged, "Not sure, but, well, I need to tell you guys something."

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred says it hurts, but I think he might have been joking," answered Ron.

"What did you need to tell us Dorea?" asked Hermione, ignoring Ron's comment.

"Well, that's exactly it, you see, I haven't exactly been entirely truthful with you," Rose said, trying to tell them the truth without losing their nascent friendship.

"What?" asked Ron.

"It's your fault, really," began Rose, trying to short the blame onto him.

"What's his fault?" asked Neville, who was concentrating more on keeping Trevor from escaping, again, than the attempt as disclosure by Rose.

"Well, when we first met, he was going on about the Girl Who Lived," began to explain Rose.

"Do you really think she's going to come?" asked Ron, a bit excited. "I know Malfoy said he hadn't seen her on the train, but maybe she was just hiding."

"Exactly," confirmed Rose.

"What?" asked Hermione, "How does that have anything to do with you lying to us?"

"Well, your see…" began Rose, unsure of how exactly to break the subject of her duplicity.

Before Rose could come clean, though, the concentration of her fellow students were taken in by the ethereal forms of the dozen or so ghosts that decided to, once again, spook the first years.

"Forgive and forget, I say. We ought to give him a second chance –" one of the ghosts, who looked to have been an overweight monk.

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peevs all the chances he deserves? I'm all for second chances, but not the three or four hundredth. He gives us all a bad name, and it's not like he's even a proper ghost — I say," spoke another, who was so deep in conversation, or so it seemed, he had only just noticed the two score eleven year olds looking up and him and his fellow apparitions, "What are you all doing here?"

When nobody answered, the ghosts fell back on their time honored routine.

"New Students!" exclaimed the Fat Friar, as if he didn't know what day it was, and what this room was used for. "About to be Sorted, I presume?"

A few brave souls answered with a nod.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" the rotund eidolon exclaimed. "My old House, you know," he added.

"Move along now," said a stern voice, though Rose could note a hint of amusement in the tone. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start."

Rose turned and saw that Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one the ghosts floated their way through the opposite wall into the Great Hall.

"Now, form a queue," declared McGonagall, "and follow me."

She lead a rather ragged line of first-years out of the antechamber and into the Great Hall.

Rose looked amazed at the ceiling of the Great Hall, for it had been the first thing to capture her attention. The space itself was large, but no larger, really, than where she'd taken her gymnastics classes, and while the floating candles were unexpected, she'd seen enough movies, and read enough books, that it wasn't exactly unexpected. What was, though, was that the ceiling looked less like a ceiling, and more like the broken clouds outside, letting through peeks at the stars above, stars that, while her Aunt Petunia had shown her through the telescope she'd been gifted, she'd never seen unaided.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside," commented Hermione, noticing Rose's enrapture. "I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_," she added.

"Ah," was all Rose could say, as she watched the clouds gently float across the stars. Her gaze was finally broken when she heard someone singing, and upon looking, saw that it was actually something that was singing. A rather decrepit looking pointed hat was sitting on a four-legged stool and singing about the Hogwarts Houses out of a rip near the brim that looked, and acted, like a mouth. It sung about Gryffindors being brave and daring and Hufflepuffs being loyal and true. Ravenclaws were wise and witty, while Slytherins were cunning and ruthless. She chuckled a bit at its rhymes, and clapped along with the rest of the school when the song was finished.

Then Professor McGonagall extracted a scroll from her robe and said, "When I call your name, you will come forward, put on the hat, and sit on the stool to be Sorted." She then read the first name from the list, "Abbot, Hannah."

"So," asked, Hermione, turning from the blonde girl getting sorted to Rose, "You were saying something about lying to us?" Her voice was a bit harsher than Rose had yet heard from the bushy-haired girl.

"Well, like I was saying, Ron was talking about how he was looking forward to meeting Rose Potter, and about how the Headmaster had asked his mum to help Rose find the platform," began to explain Rose.

"Yeah," said Ron in agreement, "Seemed a bit odd to me, how someone so famous didn't know how to get onto the Platform."

Rose rolled her eyes, "Well, then I introduced myself to Ron, saying he could call me Dorea Dursley."

"Yeah, so?" inquired Neville. "W-what of it?"

"Bulstrode, Millicent," called Professor McGonagall, as the sixth student, and fifth girl, stepped out of line to be Sorted.

"Well, it's not my name, exactly," admitted Rose.

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione, "You mean your name isn't Dorea?"

"Well, Dorea's my middle name, actually," admitted Rose.

"W-what's your first name t-then?" asked Neville.

"Rose," she told her friends.

"That's got to be cool, having the same name as the Girl Who Lived," said Ron excitedly.

"I don't think that's what she means," countered Hermione with a sidelong glare at the red-head.

"Edgecombe, Marietta," said McGonagall, calling up the eleventh eleven year old. Of Rose's three friends, only Hermione got the meaning.

"So, obviously, you're not Rose Dursley then, are you?" the brunette asked.

Rose shook her head, "No, no I'm not, though, I do live with the Dursleys, they're my aunt and uncle, and my cousin Dudley."

"So," asked Neville, "What is your last name then?"

Rose bit her lower lip, and with a glance at Hermione she knew at least one of her friends knew the truth, even if it was unconfirmed.

"You're her, aren't you?" asked Hermione.

"Who?" asked Ron, ever oblivious to something that was neither chess nor food.

"Wait?" said Neville, he too realizing just who Rose was, "Really?"

Rose nodded, shame coloring her face.

"Who is she?" asked Ron, still not getting it.

"Makes sense, if Ron was all excited about meeting you," admitted Hermione, "Though I don't appreciate being lied to."

"I didn't exactly lie," countered Rose. "I just didn't tell you the who truth. I never actually told you or Neville, or Draco for that matter, that my name was Dorea Dursley. I didn't even tell Ron that, I just told him he could call me that."

"What? I don't understand," complained Ron.

"Granger, Hermione," called Professor McGonagall.

"We'll talk later Rose," said Hermione with a bit of bite to her voice before stepping out of the rough line and over to the stool.

"I don't appreciate being lied to either, Rose, even if it is by omission," said Neville, enough anger and outrage allowing him to control his stammer.

"I didn't want to lie," admitted Rose, "i just couldn't think how to break it to you. After going into Diagon Alley, and seeing just how famous I was… I wanted people to get to know me, not the legend."

"I understand, I just don't have to like it," said Neville.

"Longbottom, Neville," called McGonagall.

"Later Nev," said Rose with a hopeful smile.

"Late Rose," Neville said, a smile of his own on his face as he walked to the stool.

Rose and Ron stood and companionable silence as Neville was sorted into Gryffindor, joining Hermione, and being only the fourth Lion, although he was the twenty-first to be Sorted.

"What did you mean that you were famous?" asked Ron.

"What? You haven't figured it out?" asked Rose, surprised by how obtuse her fellow ginger was being.

"Figured what out?" asked Ron.

Rose sighed and shook her head, mumbling, "Two out of three ain't bad."

"Two out of three what?"

Another sigh, "Two out of three friends Ron, two out of three of my new friends understood without me actually spelling it out for them."

"Figured what out Dor? I still don't understand what you three are talking bout."

Rose chuckled, "Ron, at least 'Mione and Nev were quick enough to switch from Dorea to Rose."

"Wait, like in Rose Potter?" asked Ron.

Rose let out a sigh of relief, "Finally."

"Perk, Sally-Anne," called the Deputy Headmistress, and a small lithe brunette stepped hesitantly out of the quickly diminishing rough line of unsorted students.

"Almost time," said Rose. She bounced a couple of times on the balls of her feet in anticipation.

After Sally-Anne was the fourth Gryffindor girl, Professor McGonagall paused before reading the next name.

"Potter, Rose," the Scotch witch called.

"Wish me luck," said Rose, stepping out of line.

"What?" asked Ron, still not understanding.

"Don't change Ron, don't ever change," said Rose with a chuckle, walking backwards a few steps, then turning on the ball of her foot, and walking the rest of the way to the stool amongst growing murmurs.

* * *

><p>"<em>Potter<em>, did she say?"

"_The_ Rose Potter?"

The last thing Rose saw before the brim of the Sorting Hat fell over her eyes was practically the entire student population of Hogwarts craning their necks to get a look at her. Then all was black as she looked into the inside of the Sorting Hat, waiting.

"Hmm," came a small but regal voice in her ear, "Interesting, very interesting. Courage, bravery, it takes both to admit when you are wrong. Cunning too, to quickly come up with the temporary solution to the problem that presented itself. Ambition to prove yourself, and an urge to both make your dead parents and your aunt and uncle proud. No small amount of smarts either; talent too, and quite the possibility for greatness. So, where shall we put you?"

Rose thought about that herself. _I have friends in Gryffindor, but Professor Snape is head of Slytherin_.

"So Gryffindor or Slytherin, interesting. You would do well in either House, and Slytherin would lead you to greatness much easier than Gryffindor," replied the Hat.

_But the Houses are separate. I don't know anyone by Malfoy in Slytherin, well, except Professor Snape._

"A tool, he could be, use him you could."

_I didn't know you knew Yoda, and I don't want to use anybody. I came to learn, and have friends. My friends, such as they are, are in Gryffindor._

"As you wish, for although you could be great in Slytherin, you will do quite well in — GRYFFINDOR!" replied the Hat, the final word shouted for all the Hall to hear.

* * *

><p>Rose took the Hat off her head, handing it to Professor McGonagall before making her way to the Gryffindor table, where across from Hermione and Neville was an empty space. The Gryffindors finally stopped applauding about a minute later, though the Weasley twins were still chanting "We Got Potter! We Got Potter!" by the time McGonagall called "Roper, Sophie" to be Sorted.<p>

"Congratulations," said Hermione over the table to Rose.

"Welcome to Gryffindor," Neville added with a smile.

"Once again, sorry about the deception on the Express. After Ron went on about meeting me, I didn't want to have the fame get in the way of meeting people. It's not like I did anything special," she explained.

"Didn't do anything special? But, you defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" exclaimed Hermione.

"When I was fifteen months old!" countered Rose. "I only know what my parents look like because my aunt showed me pictures from when my mum came here, and my dad from their wedding pictures. I'm famous for something I don't even remember."

They paused in their discussion to applaud, though not quite as vigorously as when Rose was Sorted, when Georgina Smith joined the table, taking an empty seat down by Lavender and Parvati.

"Well, you're forgiven, just don't lie to us again, okay? Even if it is just by omission," asked Hermione.

Rose nodded, "Sure, I can't guarantee I won't lie to you, but I'll do my best to make sure, if I do, it's for a good reason."

Hermione thought for a moment, but nodded after noticing that Neville was agreeable, "Sure, that'll do. I guess I can't expect you to never lie to us. Just make sure that it's a good reason, and tell us about it as soon as you can."

Rose nodded, and then joined in the applause for Dean Thomas. He sat a few seat down to the other side, where Sally-Anne and Seamus were talking and hand an empty seat near them.

"Only three more," said Neville, nodding to the last of the unsorted first-years. "Ron, obviously. The girl I think is Lisa Turpin, she's a pureblood, and the other boy, he's Blaise Zabini, another pureblood."

"Turpin, Lisa," called McGonagall, and the girl went to be sorted, leaving only Ron and Blaise behind, with a few meters of separation between them.

"Must not like each other, eh?" asked Rose, nodding to the separation, and obvious ignoring, between the last two boys.

"Blaise's mother is rich, so that enough is cause for Ron to dislike him. While the Zabini's weren't followers of the Dark Lord, they didn't fight against him like our parents did," Neville explained.

"Wait, our parents fought against The Dark Lord?" asked Rose.

Neville nodded, his face growing pale, "Yeah, Gran says that they were even friends, that had your parents lived, and mine hadn't been cursed, we probably would have grown up practically brother and sister, or at least cousins."

"Cursed?" asked Hermione. "What happened?"

Rose shook her head, noticing how pale the chubby boy was getting, "You don't have to tell us if you don't want to, Nev."

"Weasley, Ron," called out McGonagall, and the ginger quickly went to be Sorted. Not half a second after the hat was on his head, one of the quicker Sortings, aside from Draco Malfoy's (in which Rose swears the Hat didn't even get onto his head), Ron was declared a Gryffindor, as if there was any doubt, and he jogged over to the bit of empty space next to Rose.

"Budge over Dor," said Ron.

"Her name is Rose, Ron," said Hermione with an air of authority.

"But didn't she say I could call her Dorea?" asked Ron, still a bit confused.

"Ron, you can call me Dorea, Dor, or Rose. However you like," offered Rose with a chuckle, scooting over so that Ron could sit down.

"I hope supper starts soon, I'm famished," said Ron, looking down the length of the Gyrffindor table.

Rose nodded in agreement. Although she'd had the Chicken Masala on the Express, she too was hungry, though probably not as much as Ron, if ho much he'd eaten in the compartment was any indication.

"Welcome!" said a gently yet carrying voice across the Great Hall. Rose looked up and saw that an older man, who had been sitting on a throne-like chair and was most likely the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. "Welcome to a New Year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our feast, I'd like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> This chapter isn't as long as I had initially intended, and so, since I'm still working on the revision and ret-con of _An American Hogwarts_, I'll post an additional chapter of this story next week.

**Recommendation:** _"The Next Morning"_ by **willyolioleo** (FF dot net ID#6862422). A one-shot "what-if" of different outcomes to the Philospher's Stone puzzles if they had actually been designed to stop a Dark Lord, rather than perfectly designed to be bypassed by Harry Potter and his friends (in my opinion Dumbledore had counted on Neville accompanying Harry because of the Devil's Snare, but Hermione's spell made that challenge a bit harder than he expected).

_Published December 16, 2011_


	8. Chapter 8

The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling.

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><p>"Um, does he strike anyone else as a bit — mad?" asked Rose as the Headmaster sat down on his golden throne.<p>

"Mad?" asked an older red-head a few seats down. By the Prefect's badge and his resemblance to Ron, she guessed it was his older brother Percy. "He's a bloody genius is what he is. Best Wizard in the world."

"They say the line between genius and insanity is fairly thin," commented Hermione.

Percy chuckled, "Well, he might be a bit mad." Percy held his finger about a centimeter from his thumb. Behind him one of the Weasley Twins spread his arms wide, while the other made circles around his ear, the common hand signal for 'crazy'.

Rose chuckled, and when percy turned to look at his troublemaking brothers, then quickly turned back to the table as if nothing had happened, though their dark skinned friend was snickering.

"Potatoes Dor?" asked Ron.

"What?" Rose asked, before realizing that during her conversation with the eldest Weasley at Hogwarts the empty table had been filled with food. "Oh," she exclaimed softly.

"I do hope they have healthier fare during the rest of the year," commented Hermione as she spooned some roast vegetables onto her own golden plate.

"Healthier?" asked Ron through a mouthful of gravy covered roast pork.

Rose looked down at the dollop of mashed potatoes Ron had left on her plate, shrugged, and added a piece of chicken and some vegetables as well. Across the table Neville was eating conservatively as well, not nearly as voraciously as Ron next to her.

"I mean, at least it's not fried, but where are the fresh vegetables? It's September, we should have something better than tubers and sweet corn. Where's the salad? Tomatoes? Beans?"

Rose shrugged and took a bite of her meal. It was good, not quite the best roast chicken she'd ever had, since while the meat was tender and juicy it, well, tasted like chicken. To a girl that had grown up with Indian take away at least once a week, traditional British flavors were bland.

"Where'd they get it fresh? Mum always said that tomatoes were only good for a few weeks, and I don't think that extends into September," commented Ron. He looked to Neville, "Nev, you're into herbology, what's your take?"

"With a good greenhouse you can probably get them earlier or later," noted Neville, a look of contemplation on his pudgy face.

Hermione looked confused, "But, you can just import them."

"Import? From where? Even Spain isn't that much better of a growing season," noted Neville.

"I think mum gets her winter tomatoes from South America," said Hermione.

"South America?" asked Ron, "You can't take a portkey that far, and it'd take forever on a broom."

"It's called a boat Ronald," lectured Hermione.

As her new friends discussed the differences between muggle and magical international trade, with neither party being really educated in the specifics, Rose instead distracted herself by looking around the wondrous Great Hall. Along the wall that held the main doors into the Entrance Hall were four gigantic hour glasses, the tops of which held colored gems, and were decorated with emblems of each of the four houses. The one decorated with the Gryffindor Lion held red gems, Rose didn't want to hazard a guess on how valuable the gems were, and therefore what type they were. The Hufflepuff Badger decorated hour glass held yellow gems, the Ravenclaw Eagle festooned the one holding the blue gems, and the Snake of Slytherin adorned the vessel of green gems. Rose surmised that that was how the House Points that Professor McGonagall had mentioned were tallied, though Rose could only guess the broad option of "magic" for how it all worked.

her gaze then travelled down the length of the four House Tables, where it appeared that generally, as expected, the students sat separated by age, though similar clustering like the three groups of Gryffindor first years was evident. She noticed that Draco Malfoy and his two dim witted friends were sitting with a pair of girls, while the other first year Slytherins, another pair of girls and a pair of boys, were clustered a few seats down. She guessed that if she wanted to have friends in Slytherin, the four that didn't sit with Draco would be her best bet.

Her visual tour of the Great Hall culminated on her examination of the Staff Table. Thirteen people sat at the table, with the Headmaster in the center, the half-giant Hagrid at one end, and Professor Snape at the other.

"Ow!" exclaimed Rose, reaching up to sooth the sudden sharp pain that seared from the scar on her forehead.

"What's wrong?" asked Ron, his increasingly vocal argument with Hermione forgotten.

Rose shook her head, "It's nothing, I just had a sudden pain as I was looking up at the Professors."

Ron turned to look at the Staff Table, and saw Professor Snape staring intently towards him in return, "Must have been Snape."

"It's Professor Snape," corrected Hermione.

Rose shook her head, "No, I don't think so. He's the one who came to the Dursleys and told me about magic and how to get to Diagon Alley. He was friends with my mum when they came to Hogwarts, why'd he do anything to hurt me?"

"Professor Quirrel then?" asked Hermione. "He seems pretty harmless though. I heard his stuttering when we were waiting to be Sorted."

"Could be," mused Rose, rubbing her forehead. The scar didn't hurt, not anymore, but it had, and it never had before.

"What did you mean Professor Snape told you about magic?" asked Ron.

"Well, I was raised by my aunt and uncle, like I told you earlier. Although my mum was a witch, my aunt's a muggle through and through. Uncle Vernon works for a drill company," explained Rose.

"Oh, Professor McGonagall came out and told my parents about magic when I got my letter," offered Hermione.

"You mean you didn't know about magic?" asked Ron.

"Well, I knew about magic, but only the stories my Aunt told me. She and mum didn't exactly get along, but she tried to do better with me. She told me that she pushed away my mum because she was jealous. That's why she made sure that Dudley and me grew up as friends, and that he knew that I was born magical, that it wasn't something that either of us could change," answered Rose. "I was lucky that I had an explanation for my accidental magic," she nodded to Hermione, "unlike you I'm sure."

Hermione nodded, "Yeah, mum and dad were relieved when Professor McGonagall offered and say explanation for why odd things kept happening around me."

"But, since Aunt Petunia didn't go to Hogwarts, and she wasn't raised in the magical world, she couldn't give me much more of an explanation that 'It's magic'. That's why I asked for someone to come out to explain it to me, and how to get to Diagon Alley, when I got my acceptance letter, that's when I met Professor Snape, though Aunt Petunia called him Severus, I think that's his first name."

"Wow, you know Snape's first name?" asked Ron in amazement.

"Professor Snape," corrected Rose.

"It must be nice to be famous enough to have a Professor come out and explain things to you," said Ron jealously.

"Ron, Professor McGonagall came out and explained magic to me," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah, but you're a muggleborn, you couldn't know about magic," countered Ron. "She's the Girl-Who-Lived. She's the last of the Potters. Famous and Rich." He turned to Rose, "You're so lucky."

"Ron, I'd give up both for the chance to have my parents back," countered Rose softly. "I love my Aunt Petunia, and Dudley. Uncle Vernon's nice enough, but to have my parents back? I'd give up everything, all the galleons in my vault, all the fame and fortune in the world to have just a day with my parents." She sniffed back a tear, "You're the lucky one Ron. You've got a huge family, and you grew up loved by both your parents. In my opinion, you're the lucky one."

At that Ron got quiet, as did Hermione. Neville hadn't said much of anything since Ron and Hermione had started their discussion about tomatoes.

"You _are_ lucky, Ron," said Neville softly, breaking his silence. "I'm with Rose on this one. I'd give up anything for just one day with my mum and dad."

* * *

><p>The rest of dinner was a subdued affair among the four friends, and even the pronouncement of "a very painful death" to those that examined the third floor corridor did not break their solemnity. It was only on the trip from the Great Hall to Gryffindor Tower that their spirits were raised. Between the wonder of the moving, and speaking, paintings for the muggle-raised Rose and Hermione, to the hijinks of Peeves the Polterguist, by the time the first years, lead by Ron's older brother, and fifth year prefect, Percy, arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait outside of Gryffindor Tower, the four friends were almost as excited as the other six first years.<p>

"Password?" asked the Fat Lady from inside her frame.

"Caput Draconis," answered Percy.

The portrait of the Fat Lady swung aside, revealing a round hole. After climbing through the hole — Ron helping Neville over the threshold to the barely restrained giggling of Hermione and Rose — Percy lead them into the Gryffindor Common Room.

The Common Room was round, with lots of comfortable armchairs and sofas, study tables with chairs, and a small library (though Rose guessed that not only did the Ravenclaws have a larger library, but it was probably used more often). The room was decorated in subdued hues of scarlet and gold, with accents of shades of grey and darkly stained wood.

"Girls, we're up here," said Rebekka Long, Percy's female counterpart, leading the girls to a stairway on the left.

"Guys, over here," instructed Percy, leading Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus up to their dormitory.

"Now, we don't have to be as careful about the guys as you'd think, since they're not allowed up these stairs. If they tried, they'd just slide right down," explained Rebekka as they climbed the stairs. They passed six landings before arriving at the top of spiral stairs, "This is your room, ladies. And yes, it is at the top of the tower. Seventh years have the level right above the common room, while us fifth years, are two floors above them. As you get older and advance through your time here at Hogwarts your dorm room will move slowly down the tower."

She then pushed open the door, revealing a curved room with six four-posted beds decorated with deep red, velvet curtains with gold trim, "Your trunks have already been moved up. If you don't like who you're next to, try to switch, but do it quietly. Most of the older girls are already asleep, or at least in their beds, and you've got an early start in the morning. Lucky sods, you get a Saturday as your first full day at Hogwarts," Rebekka said with a chuckle. She then left the half-dozen girls to sort themselves out and headed down to her own dorm room.

"We're first," said the pair of Lavender and Parvati, pushing past the other girls and into the room. They quickly found their trunks, and just as quickly moved them from where they were to the pair of beds at the far end of the room. Rose noticed that it was her and Hermione's trunks that had been moved out of the way.

"You want near the door or near them?" asked Rose of the two other first year girls.

"I'm fine next to them," said Sally-Anne, slipping past the other three girls and pulling her trunk one bed over to be next to Parvati's bed.

"I'm fine either way," offered Georgina. "Oh, and it's Georgina, Georgina Smith." She offered her hand in introduction to Rose.

"Rose Potter," she said, shaking Georgina's hand.

"Of course," the other girl said with a smile. "I prefer Sally, my middle name, but since we've already got another Sally, I guess I can go by Georgina."

"How about just Gina?" offered Hermione.

With a nod the girl agreed, "Nice, not what I'm used to, but it's much better than my full name. Dad promised to name his first born after granddad, but he wasn't expected a girl, nor for the promise to be magically binding, so I'm stuck with it. But I guess I can live with Gina. It'll cut down on the confusion at least."

"Nice to meet you Gina," Rose smiled. She then looked to Hermione, "You want right next to the door, or to separate the Sallys?"

Hermione bit her lower lip in thought, then glanced over and noticed that Gina's trunk was already at the base of the bed next to the door, "Well, since her trunk's already here, might as well leave it."

Gina nodded to Hermione and Rose, and then set to readying herself for bed.

Rose, since her trunk had been moderately closer to the bed next to Sally-Anne, and Hermione's slightly closer to the bed next to Gina, made her way to her home for the next ten months. It didn't look all that bad, certainly at least as comfortable as the one she had back at the Dursleys, and probably better.

Just before she wondered where she could get the rest of the way ready for bed, she noticed that Lavender had not just taken the bed farthest from the door, but also the closest to the bathroom. After divesting herself of most of her uniform, and grabbing her bathrobe, pajamas, and toiletry kit, Rose got ready for bed.

After brushing both her hair and her teeth (though Gina had mentioned that there was a charm for both, the girl didn't know either), Rose, clad in just her bathrobe and pajamas, returned to her new bed, tossing her backpack and uniform into the top of her trunk, "I'll leave it for the morning to sort out," she told herself.

As she settled in, leaving her bathrobe on the top of her trunk, the murmurs of sleepy conversation filled the room.

"What's it like to be famous?" asked Sally-Anne of Rose, leaning on her elbow to talk across the space between them.

Rose shrugged, but it was hard to tell in the darkness, "It really hasn't hit me yet, just the one day in Diagon Alley and since getting on the Express."

"You mean you didn't grow up knowing you were famous?" the brunette asked.

Rose shook her head, not that the other girl could see, "No, though I did know that my mum and dad had been killed saving my life, i didn't know I was famous until stepping into the Alley. Didn't know I was rich either," she added with a chuckle.

"Wow," Sally-Anne sighed in amazement. "That must be pretty wonderful, well, aside from the whole losing your parents part. Sort of like Cinderella, only without the ugly step-sisters. You don't have ugly step-sisters, do you?"

Rose chuckled, "No, just a cousin, and he's not ugly, at least, I don't think so. He's my cousin, what do I care what he looks like?" The pair of them giggled before Rose continued, "So, are your muggle born or just muggle raised?"

"Muggle born," answered Sally-Anne. "Mum's a secretary, and Dad's a cellist for the BBC. I was actually going to go to the Royal Ballet School, but when Professor McGonagall said that Hogwarts was the best school of witchcraft in Europe, mum sort of insisted. She knew I always dreamed of being a prima ballerina, but she said that an opportunity like this doesn't come but once in your life. I might have made an excellent dancer with training and hard work, but who didn't grow up wishing to be able to do magic?"

Rose chuckled, "Well, Aunt Petunia always told me I was going to be a witch. Oh," she paused in surprise.

"What?" asked Sally-Anne.

"I need to remember to send my Aunt a letter about my Sorting," Rose replied. "I was going to do it tonight, but it's so late…"

"Yeah, best to do it in the morning," Sally-Anne said with a yawn. "'Night Rose.

"'Night Sally-Anne," said Rose.

"'Night Rose," said Hermione, who had been talking to Gina while Rose had talked with Sally-Anne.

"'Night Hermione," Rose reciprocated. "Good Night Gina, you too Parvati and Lavender."

"Go to sleep," came the half-asleep response from the end of the room, sending the four girls who were awake into a fit of giggles.

Eventually sleep took Rose. Evening came, and morning followed, Rose's first day at Hogwarts.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Okay, so, another short chapter, but, I can finally start the actual schooling. Quirrel is going to be suspected early, and Snape is going to be trusted, at least by Rose (it'll take more time for Ron and Neville to trust Snape, and Hermione already respects him for being a Professor, so she's halfway there). I'll be working in Snape's dilemma: Rose has to die for Tom Riddle to be destroyed (since she's a horcrux), but he not only owes a life debt to Rose (through James), but he betrayed the woman he loved (by telling half of the prophesy to Voldemort), and now he has to live with her near double (which should be a bit easier than he dealt with James' doppleganger of Harry in canon).

**Recommendation:** "The Best Revenge" (ID# 4912291) and "Time of the Basilisk" (ID# 5843959) from **Arsinoe de Blassenville**, inspiration for this portrayal of Sally-Anne Perks (who most authors put into Hufflepuff, even though there's more empty spots in Gryffindor), as well as some of the future portrayal of Snape (though I'll also be borrowing from many of the other "nicer Snape" stories out there).


	9. Chapter 9

The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling.

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><p><strong>Note:<strong> So, I know this is a bit of a recap and fluff chapter, but it has been over a year since I last wrote, so it's sort of me dipping a toe back into the waters, so to speak. I should have a more substantial chapter written latter in the month. And so far I'm making my Resolution to Write a scene every day.

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><p><em>Dear Aunt Petunia,<em>

_Well, it's Saturday morning, and I got to Hogwarts fine last night. I even made some friends, but as you wanted, I just wanted to say I got into Gryffindor, like my Mum and Dad, though it might have been Slytherin with Professor Snape if it hadn't been for a boy I met on the train._

_First let me tell you about my new friends._

_First is Ron Weasley, he's what's called a 'pureblood', someone with at least all four of their grandparents being magical. So if I have any kids, they'll be purebloods, at least, as long as I don't marry a muggleborn, like Mum (though, obviously, I'm going to marry a guy, not a girl like Mum). Ron's Mum was sent by the Headmaster to make sure I got on the train, but I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, since Professor Snape had already made sure I knew where to go, although I did have to follow another student to get onto the platform, so perhaps that's why._

_Anyway, I kind of lied to Ron when he asked who I was, since I wasn't sure if I should tell him who I was because his mum was looking for me, so I told him I was Dorea Dursley. And really, it's nearly the truth, since your and Uncle Vernon took me in and raised me as a daughter, and Dorea is my middle name, even if its the name of my dad''s mum too. So, now, even though I later told him what my real name was, Ron's still calling my Dorea. I'm not sure if he's slow, lazy, or just messing with me. Hopefully one of the latter two, since I wouldn't want a slow friend, not that there's anything wrong with that._

_After Ron and I traded half of our lunches, since he'd never had chicken marsala and he didn't like the his corned beef sandwiches. He also showed me his rat, Scabbers, though I'm glad I'm not a boy, I wouldn't want to live in the same room as a rat._

_Instead I get to share a room for five other girls, two of whom are muggleborn, Hermione Granger, who I met on the train and who's parents are dentists in Crawley, and Sally-Anne Perks, who's father is a cellist for the BBC._

_I met Hermione on the train, she was helping another first year, Neville Longbottom, look for his toad. I would have introduced myself to her, but Ron told her I was Dorea Dursley, and I didn't want him to look like an idiot, plus I didn't want them to think of my differently because I'm the so-called 'Girl-Who-Lived', so I just went along with it, though, like I said, I told them eventually. Hermione and I went to try to find Neville's toad, but we couldn't find him, so all four of us, including Neville now that we couldn't find his toad, sat in the compartment. I was just about to tell them that my name was really Rose Potter, when some poncy git opened the door looking for me. He said his name was Draco Malfoy, and this his father was on the Board of Governors, so he could so whatever he wanted. He also said that once he married me, or rather the 'Girl-Who-Lived', since nobody knew I was me at the time, he'd have even more power. He then said that my godfather, Sirius Black, also betrayed my parents, and that once he died in Azkaban, which I think is their prison, sort of like Alcatraz used to be for the Americans, Draco'd also be Lord Black, and the most powerful wizard in Britain._

_Well, let's just say that I'm going to do whatever I need to do to make it so that his so-called grand scheme doesn't happen. It doesn't help that I know what he's planning._

_So, only just a minute or two before we were sorted, and all that was was putting on a fancy talking hat, I finally told Hermione, Ron, and Neville that I wasn't exactly Dorea Dursley, but was instead Rose Potter. They understood once I explained it, though like I said, I don't think Ron properly gets that I'm not really Dorea, though I guess I am, since it's just like calling someone by their middle name or a nickname rather than their real name._

_I'm sorry for rambling. I'll write you next weekend to tell you how my first week of classes went. I hope you have fun in New York, and get me a souvenir or five dozen while you're there. Since you're going to the World Trade Center, I want one with the Twin Towers, like a snowglobe or something._

_Thanks Aunt Petunia. Tell Dudley I'll send him a letter when something cool happens to me._

_Love,_

_Your Niece_

_Rose Potter_

* * *

><p>Rose finished up her letter, glad that she'd be able to use biro and paper rather than quill and parchment. She then folded the letter, and put in into an envelope. Just before she left the common room, where most of the Gryffindors were lounging in after breakfast but before heading outside to enjoy the weekend weather, she realized that two of his new friends might not be able to write to their parents.<p>

"Sally-Anne, Hermione, come over here," shouted Rose, gesturing to her new friends. They both came over, Hermione with a book in hand, finger between the pages to hold her place.

"What did you want that required you to shout across the common room at us for?" asked Hermione.

"I'm writing my Aunt Petunia, and I just realized that you two might not have a way to write your families. I'm already having Aunt Petunia forward letters to my cousin Dudley at Smeltings, that's a public school he goes to, so I thought, why not have her forward letters to your parents," offered Rose, waving the envelope with her letter.

"Thanks, let me go get something to write with," said Sally-Anne.

"No need, I've some some biros and paper here," said Rose. "If I run out, I'll just have Aunt Petunia send me some more."

"Well, perhaps not today, as it'll take me a while to write a letter to my mum and dad, but thanks for the offer. Perhaps when your owl gets back," replied Hermione. She then raised her book, "Now, if you don't mind?"

"Don't forget, we're going to explore around the grounds after lunch," said Rose before Hermione got too far away.

"You know, she's never going to fit in if she's always got here nose in a book," commented Sally-Anne as she sat down, grabbed a biro and some paper, and began to write her letter.

Rose sat down opposite Sally-Anne at the table, "I know, that's why I want to make sure she comes with us to explore. I had a friend like her back in primary school, sort of a book worm, and if it wasn't for Dudders and I pulling him out of his shell, he's likely get his A-Levels without a single friend."

"Wait," said Sally-Anne, stopping writing in mid-word. "What about out A-Levels? I can't get into a good university without good A-Levels."

"Well, what about magical university, surely Hogwarts isn't the end of school, right?" asked Rose. "I mean, we've got a Minister of Magic, surely he's more educated than, say, Ron's older brothers. I mean, isn't her like the Prime Minsiter for all of the witches and wizards?"

"I guess, maybe I'll ask mum and dad to look into it. Perhaps I'll just take my GCSE and A-Levels over the summer," said Sally-Anne.

Rose chuckled, "I would have expected this sort of talk out of Hermione, not you."

"Hey, just because I don't hide behind a book doesn't mean I'm not studious. I gave up being a Prima Ballerina to do magic, which means that not I have to do something else with my life. If what I picked up from my visit to Diagon Alley is true, then it's not like a muggleborn like me has much of a chance getting a good job after Hogwarts. I mean, really, you heard Ron talk about his family during breakfast. His dad's apparently the foremost expert on muggles in the Ministry of Magic. Wouldn't a muggleborn be better for that job? That means that a muggleborn likely couldn't get that job, which means that, if a muggleborn can't get the one job in the entire Ministry of Magic that is perfect for them, what chances to they have elsewhere."

Rose thought on that for a moment, "You know, that makes sense."

"Of course, you're lucky, at least, after all your unluck that is. You've got money, if what the rumors say is true, and you'll never have to work a day in your life."

"Well, yeah, I guess…"

* * *

><p>"Just let me add a bit for Aunt Petunia so she knows to send off Sally-Anne's letter," said Rose in the Owlery. She then opened up her envelope and wrote a quick post-script at the bottom of her letter. She then sealed the letter, and after folding it a few times along with Sally-Anne's envelope, looked up, and smiled as she saw the magnificent white form of Hedwig waiting for her. "You're just so smart, you know that?"<p>

Hedwig just barked, and Rose giggled. After securing the letters to Hedwig's leg, Rose stepped back, "That's it for today Hedwig, just take that down to Aunt Petunia and she'll send it off to the Perks."

Hedwig barked again, then took flight, gliding around Rose and her friends before flying out of the owlery.

"Thanks again Rose," said Sally-Anne, her blond hair in two ponytail bunches.

"Not a problem Sally-Anne," said Rose. "Now, let's go exploring."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" asked Neville as the five lions descended the stairs from the owlery.

"Well, it's not like we're skipping classes, and as long as we don't go into the forest, it's not like we're doing anything wrong. Plus, didn't you hear the Ron's brothers were saying something about a 'pick-up game' of quidditch?" offered Rose.

"Too bad none of us have brooms," said Ron sullenly.

"Ron, aside from your and Neville, and likely just you, none of us have been one brooms before. I just want to see what all the fuss is about," said Rose.

"I still don't understand why you wanted to do this. We could be in the library, studying for our classes," countered Hermione.

"Hermione," offered Sally-Anne, "there's more to school that just studying. I mean, my dad, he said to me before I went through the barrier onto the platform, he say, 'Sally, don't let your schoolwork get in the way of your education.' I think this is what he was talking about."

"But, isn't schoolwork education?" asked Hermione.

"I think it's more about the other stuff, like how to make friends, and how to deal with life. Take the three of us girls, we were all raised in the normal world, without any magic. That means that we don'y really know about the magical world. Perhaps there's a way for Sally-Anne to get involved in ballet or something in the magical world," offered Rose. She then turned to Ron, "Ron, is there anything like television in the magical world?"

"Television?" asked Ron.

"How about radio? Listening to news reports or music or talk shows?" asked Hermione.

"Well, there's the Wizarding Wireless," offered Neville. "And I think Gran said something about some hairbrained scheme in the 80s to do a wireless with pictures, but nothing I've ever seen."

"Well, perhaps Sally can do something like that," offered Rose.

"It's alright Rose, I'm fine no being a ballerina. I can be something else, perhaps if a proper muggleborn gets involved we can introduce television to the wizards all proper like. Then we'd be able to show them movies," offered Sally-Anne.

"I know, when I talked to Gina this morning, she'd never heard about _Shrek_ or _Toy Story_," offered Sally-Anne.

"I'm more concerned that they don't know about _Star Wars_," complained Rose. "I mean, we can do magic, how isn't that just like having the Force?"

"Well, I'm just glad that we can go home for Christmas," said Hermione. "My favorite book is being made into a movie, and I can't wait to se it."

"Which one?" asked Rose.

"_The Fellowship of the Ring_," said Hermione.

"Oh, I just loved that book," said Rose.

"Do you have any idea what they're talking about?" asked Ron of Neville, the two boys following the three girls as they gossiped.

"Not a clue," said Neville. "But I wonder if Hermione brought that book with her."

"Why?" asked Ron.

"Well, Rose said she liked it," said Neville with a hint of a blush.

* * *

><p><em>Published January 7, 2013<em>


	10. Chapter 10

The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling.

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><p><strong>Note:<strong> Just a reminder, this story is happening in 2001, not 1991 as in canon. I had hoped the reference to _The Phantom Menace_ in the first chapter with Rose would have worked, or even the references to _The Fellowship of the Ring_ or _Toy Story_. Obviously they can't get excited about _The Philosopher's Stone_ coming out. Also, I'm using a slightly different interpretation of the magic system than most, inspired, yes, by _Methods of Rationality_. If you hadn't picked up that it's one of my influences, then you haven't been paying attention. Mind, it's a small influence, but it's still an influence.

* * *

><p>The first class on monday morning, following a sunday that was spent exploring the inside of the castle due to the rainstorm, was Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws.<p>

"Settle down class," said the severe Scottish witch that was both Head of Gryffindor and Deputy Headmistress, in addition to being the sole professor of Transfiguration. "Transfiguration is among the most dangerous and yet the most useful skills you will learn, and hopefully master, here at Hogwarts," she said, striding back and forth before her desk like a caged tiger. "Until you are sufficiently skilled, your transfigurations will not last, and even then, only a select few of you will have the skill and mastery to transfigure something that cannot simply be reverted with a _finite_. I know that you have not had your Charms lessons, this being the first class of your first year at Hogwarts, and so you do not know that spell, but know that, unless you are supremely skilled, anything you transfigure will, eventually, return to it's former form."

She strode now into the center of the classroom, all eyes trasfixed on her as she suddenly had her wand in hand. She pointed it at her desk, and without even a word, it turned into a pig.

"Now," she said, turning to look at all of her students. "If I were to kill this pig, and give it to the elves for lunch, would you want to eat it?" She paused, looking out over the class. With a look of disappointment, she added, "Anyone want to tell me if they would or would not eat it and why it would or would not be a bad or good idea?"

Silence for a second, broken only by the sound of the pig. Then, hesitantly, Hermione extended her hand into the air.

"Ms. Granger, your answer?" asked Professor McGonagal.

"Uh, I wouldn't eat it ma'am," said Hermione hesitantly.

"And why wouldn't you?" probed the Professor.

"Uh, because it's not really a pig, it's a desk. When the magic either ran out or was dispelled it would no longer be a selection of pork, ham, and bacon, but instead wood, papers, and hardware."

McGonagall smiled, "Ten points to Gryffindor. That was a good answer." She then took her wand and reversed the transfiguration, returning the pid to her desk. She then stepped forward and selected a knick-knack from its surface. It looked like some sort of animated brass witch riding on a broomstick, her hair and robes waving in an invisible wind. "This is my award for being the highest scoring chaser during my seven years at Hogwarts, six of them on the Gryffindor House Team. It was the first award I received that wasn't scholastic in nature." She held it in her left hand, and with her wand in her right, she transfigured it into a glass of water, the image of the flying witch on a broomstick instead animated in ink on the surface of the glass.

The class 'oohed' and 'aahed'.

"Can someone other than Ms. Granger tell me why it would be a bad idea for me to drink this water?"

One of the Ravenclaws raised her hand, "Ms. Turpin, your answer?"

"Uh, because if you drink the water, and it stops being transfigured, it will turn back into brass in your stomach, and perhaps even in your blood, or your brain."

"Excellent, if somewhat macabre, answer, Ms. Turpin. Ten points to Ravenclaw." With a wave of her hand the glass and the water returned to the brass award and it was replaced on her desk.

"Transfiguration is quite possibly the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. I will book no shenanigans or horseplay, no pranks or so-called 'innocent mistakes'. If you, through willful action or inaction, endanger any of your fellow students in this classroom, you will be removed from the class and you will not return. You will not be able to take your Transfiguration OWLs or NEWTs within Britain, and will likely not be able to be tested by any other ICW accredited testing authority. If you decide to not take my class seriously, you will not be doing any transfiguration, ever, if I have any say in it. Are we clear?"

The class was silent.

"Are we clear?"

A smattering of 'yeses', 'crystals', and 'sures' were returned by the class.

"The proper response is crystal, as in we are crystal clear, and that there is no obstruction in your understanding. So," asked McGonagall, looking over the frightened faces of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw first years, "Are we clear?"

"Crystal," came the united response from the twenty first-years, ten Gryffindors and ten Ravenclaws.

"Good," said McGonagall, her demeanor softening. "Now, if you're take our your textbooks, we'll begin with our first lesson, transfiguring a match into a needle."

The twenty students in the class split into groups of twos and threes. The most difficult problem was that half of the class wanted to group with Rose. With Professor McGonagall reminding the students they only had half an hour left to finish their lesson, Rose took the initiative, "Neville, you and Ron work together today. Hermione, you work with Sally-Anne, and I'll work with GIna."

There was some grumbling, and a bit of excitement from Gina, but eventually they got back to their lesson.

Rose was pointing her wand at the match and mumbling under her breath about getting it to change into a needle, but nothing was happening.

"Congratulations, Ms. Granger," announced Professor McGonagall. Rose looked up and noticed that half the class was packing up already. She glanced over a Hermione and saw that her match, while still recognizably a match, was pointed and silvery. "Ten points to Gryffindor."

As Rose put her notes under the cover of her textbook, and then slipped the textbook into her backpack, she hissed at Hermione.

"What?" asked Hermione, herself putting her notes carefully into a folder before putting it into her bag.

"How'd you do it? Half an hour and I don't have anything to show by a creased forehead."

"It's all in the imagination," said Hermione confidently. "I've always had a vivid imagination, so I just applied that to this, imagining my magic flowing out and changing the match into a needle. I still need work."

* * *

><p>Charms class was, much like Transfiguration earlier in the day, mostly an introductory session. Two things, though, stood out to Rose. The first was how excited Professor Flitwick, a short man with wild hair and if Rose was going to guess, not a small amount of goblin in his ancestry based on his size and the general proportions of his head and ears, which reminded her of the bankers at Grongotts. The second was that, like in Transfiguration, Hermione had achieved the first and best results, which in this case was the simple light spell, <em>lumos<em>.

"The light, or torch, spell, commonly referred to by its incantation, _lumos_, is one of the most basic and useful spells a witch or wizard will learn. Which is why it is the first spell you will learn in my class," said Professor Flitwick from atop the stack of books the allowed him to see over his desk.

"Unlike most of the charms you will be learning in my class, as well as those that you should be learning in Professor Quirrell's class," explained the diminutive professor, placing an emphasis on the 'should'. "The light spell doesn't require any complex somatic components, also known as wand motions. It also lasts until you dismiss it, which is done by saying the counter-charm, _nox_."

"Now, I should hope that all of you can achieve this by the end of our class today, both _lumos_ and _nox_, for they are a pair, that without the latter, the former is of little utility."

It was after Hermione was the first to achieve the light spell, on her first try no less, as well as the counter-charm, though this time on the second try for she hadn't quite gotten the pronunciation correct, coming out at _nāx_ rather than _nox_.

While the professor's excitement and Hermione exceptionalism, which luckily the Slytherins were seeing for the first time, were the two largest standouts, there was one interaction, near the end of the class, that confused Rose a bit.

Draco Malfoy, who had, not seventy-two hours before, claimed that he'd marry Rose and become the most powerful wizard in Britain, had come over to Rose and tried to strike up a conversation.

"You really should have told me who you were," said Draco.

"What?" asked Rose, concentrating more on how quickly she could switch from _lumos_ to _nox_ and back, trying to see if she could do it quickly enough to do an SOS.

"On the Express, when I came into your compartment, you really should have told me who you were. I wouldn't have made such a fool of myself," explained Draco.

"Draco, you made a fool out of yourself at the robe shop," said Rose between attempts at signaling distress. "You confirmed that you were a fool on the train, and now you are here, in our first class together, after you admitted that you planned to woo me and then take my family's power, the family that died before I could know them I might add, and trying to make amends by saying that it's my fault that I didn't tell you who I was."

"Well, if you had told me who you were, I wouldn't have said those things," complained Draco.

Rose turned to the blond Slytherin, "Draco, you shouldn't have said those things anyway. If for no other reason that, well, it wasn't very cunning."

"What?" gasped Draco loudly.

"It wasn't very cunning, isn't that one of the traits of Slytherin House? Cunning, ambition, and tradition, that's the big three, right? I mean, yeah, I got that from listening to Hermione read from her favorite book, but still, seems about right."

"How can you say I wasn't cunning?" asked Draco. "I mean, I tried, doesn't that count for anything?"

"A wise man once said, Draco, 'Do or do not, there is no try.' Trying to be cunning won't cut it. You have the ambition, that's obvious, and tradition, sure, gaining power through marriage I guess it traditional, but it's the cunning that you need to work on. Now, leave me alone, I'm trying to signal my distress to Sally-Anne and you're not helping."

Rose watched out of the corner of her eye as Draco sulked back to his group of friends, which had expanded slightly since the incident on the Hogwarts Express. In addition to the two meatheads from the train there was a pig-faced girl with stringy black hair. She seemed to pester Draco when he returned, and then, after hearing him explain himself, spend the rest of the lesson glaring at Rose.

* * *

><p>The final class of the day, and with a frantic rush from the Charms classroom, down the stairs and across the grounds, the Gryffindors joined the Hufflepuffs for Herbology. While Professor McGonagall had been strict and stern, and Professor Flitwick excited and energized, Professor Sprout was was matronly and grounded, which suited her as both Head of Hufflepuff House and the Herbology Professor.<p>

"Welcome, welcome, to Greenhouse One, where we'll be spending the rest of the year here for Herbology. While in a few years you'll be able to learn about the various magical creatures and how to care for them, with Professor Kettleburn, Merlin bless him. But, in this class, which I hope to see all of you in through the end of your NEWTs in seven years, is all about the various magical plants and fungi that you will encounter. You'll learn how to identify plants and fungi, how to distinguish magical cultivars and species from their more mundane cousins known to the muggles, and what they are used for," said Professor Sprout from the front of the class, gesturing at the various plants and fungi around the edge of the greenhouse classroom.

Unlike in the previous classes, Hermione was not the standout among the Gryffindors, for when Professor Sprout began to ask a series of basic questions to get a gauge of her students, the first hand up for every question was Neville's.

"Nev," commented Ron, "How'd you get to know so much about herbology?"

"Well, with Gran involved in the Wizengamot, I had to spend most of my time alone, so I spent it around the various greenhouses on the estate," explained Neville. "I mean, yeah, it's not exciting like sneaking out to play quidditch with your brothers, but for an only child, well, I made due."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," said Hermione. "I mean, I didn't have many friends growing up, but instead of greenhouses my parents had a library, so I got lost in books."

"I guess I had a bit more normal childhood, what with Dudley there to have fun with. We'd play video games and watch movies, plus whatever was on the telly," explained Rose. "Though Aunt Petunia made sure we got outside, so we played lots of footy and I did some field hockey, while Dudley had his boxing."

"Footy?" asked Ron.

"Football," explained Rose. "Two dozen kids on a field a bit smaller than the quidditch pitch, kicking around a ball about a this big." She had her hands far enough apart to represent a football. "It may not be as exciting as quidditch," said Rose, anticipating the reaction from Ron, who had explained the gam to her, Sally, and Hermione on Saturday, "but it's pretty much the most popular sport in the muggle world."

"Weird," said Ron with a shake of his head. "I mean, sure, Dean explained it to me too, but I still find it a bit barmy. I mean, where's the fun without the flying, only having two goals, and only one ball?"

"Well, since they're not flying, you don't need the bludgers to knock people out, so there's two balls out right there, since a slide tackle is good enough to most," explained Rose. She put of her hand before Ron could ask another question, "I'll explain slide tackles later. But, without the bludgers and flight, about the main difference is that there's no snitch to catch."

"How do you know when the game's over?" asked Ron.

"Well, you time it, of course," said Hermione with an exasperated sigh. "I mean, really."

"Time it? But, where's the fun in that?" asked Ron.

Rose and Hermione both sighed, while Neville smirked slightly, glad that he'd not have to argue either side, and glad that he'd found friends. He could hear Gina and Sally-Anne discussing something just before the dark-skinned Dean Thomas wrapped his arm around Ron's shoulder.

"Ron, I hear you're talking about footy," said Dean, a gleam in his eye.

"Well, we were explaining to him how it was like quidditch without brooms, bludgers, or the snitch. And then you asked about how it can end without a snitch, and we said it was timed," explained Rose in summary.

"So, then Ron here most be wondering how it can be exciting if it's timed, right?" asked Dean.

"Right," confirmed Rose and Hermione with a nod. "You'll explain it to him, right? We've got to go."

"Leave it to me, ladies," said Dean with a predatory smile.

* * *

><p><em>Published January 10, 2013<em>


	11. Chapter 11

The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling.

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> I know it's short, but it's what I could come up with, as my muse is distracted at the moment. Perhaps it's the nice weather?

* * *

><p>Tuesdays saw the First Years get a late start, much like Thursdays would, though the latter would be because of the Astronomy class all forty first years shared at midnight. The First Years were joined at their late breakfasts by the Third Years, who had spent Monday night up until well after midnight watching the stars.<p>

And so it was that Rose, Hermione, Neville, and Ron found themselves with Ron's older brothers, Fred and George, as their breakfast companions.

"We'd have bothered Charlie–"

"This morning–"

"But he's in Romania–"

"What with him getting all his NEWTS–"

"Just last year," said the twins back and forth across the table.

Rose made an exaggerated rubbing of her neck, "Guys, if you're going to sit here, you'll need to cut down on that back and forth."

"Back–" began the Weasley twin next to Rose.

"And Forth?" finished the one across the table, next to Neville.

"Yes, it's quite annoying," said Hermione, who was reading her Defense textbook at the breakfast table.

"It's just like that at home, Dor," said Ron around his mouthful of bacon, eggs, sausage, potatoes, and oatmeal.

Rose looked to the Weasley twin next to her, "Is he just like at home too?"

"Oh yeah–" said the twin across from her.

"Ickle Ronnikins–"

"Can't get enough–"

"Of Mum's cooking."

"Okay, I'm just going to concentrate on Neville then," said Rose, looking across from her. "I've got Twins to the left of me, and pigs to the right."

"Oi," said Ron, just before taking a swig of tea to clear his airway, "I'm not a pig Dor, you take that back."

"Who's Dor?" asked the Twin next to Neville.

"She's Dor," said Ron around a fork loaded with blood pudding, pointing at Rose with a sausage impaled on his knife.

"She's Rose," said the Twin next to Rose.

"Well, yeah, that's what she wants you to think," said Ron around his breakfast. He swallowed, "But Dor here, I know he secret, she's not just the Girl-Who-Lived, she's Dorea Dursley."

The Twins both raised their eyebrows, though Rose saw neither as she had her face in her hands.

"Well, she is rather famous," admitted Hermione. "If she hadn't introduced herself as Dorea rather than Rose, I'd have likely gone off like a fangirl."

"A Fan–"

"Girl?" asked the twins.

"Sounds like Ginny," said Ron. "My sister, she's obsessed with Rose Potter, wants to be just like her. having adventures and fighting vampires and all that stuff in the books."

"Books?" asked Rose.

"Oh yeah–"

"Ickle Ronnikins here–"

"Has read all the books–"

"About the Famous Girl–"

"Who–"

"Lived."

"There are books about me?" asked Rose. "I mean, I've never had any adventures. The most I had was when I went off to Paxmead and fell into the Thames from my canoe. Quit the Brownies not a week later."

"Well, I've only seen the mentions in _Modern Magical History_, _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_, and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_. Mum wouldn't like if I went for the children's books," explained Hermione.

"Well, I wonder if that's why I'm so famous, I mean, it's been almost a decade since my parents died, but I'm still as famous as Lady Di," said Rose with a sigh.

"Who?" asked Neville.

Hermione and Rose both looked shocked and were speechless for nearly a minute, mouth's agape.

"She's… she's… she's the Princess of Wales," stammered Rose.

"Or was, rather," corrected Rose.

"Princess of Wales?" asked Neville.

"Used to be married to Prince Charles," said Rose, as if it was obvious. When the pureblood men looked confused, she continued, "Who's the son of the Queen."

Then, finally, there was recognition, "Oh–"

"That Princess."

Ron, though still looked confused, "What's Wales got to do with things?"

"Ron–"

"Keep Quite."

* * *

><p>The Defense Against the Dark Arts class was perhaps the most difficult for Rose. Not because she didn't understand the material, that was simple enough after having read the textbook (and unlike Hermione, she'd only read it once, not five times). No, the problem was that, between Professor Quirrel's stammer and her constant headache, she couldn't focus on what was being taught.<p>

That History of Magic was after Defense was perhaps worse, since while her headache finally went away, she tried and, along with the Hufflepuffs and her fellow Gryffindors, aside from Hermione, failed to stay awake during Professor Binns' lecture.

Supper an hour or so after History of Magic was dominated by Hermione berating her fellow Lions for falling asleep.

"Yes, I know that his voice is monotonous," admitted Hermione while gesturing with her hands, "But that's not excuse for sleeping during class."

"Hermione, that's every excuse, I talked with the older students after class, and they said that they all sleep through class too. It's only the Ravenclaws that don't, and even then, they rotate who takes notes during class while the others work on other classes," countered Gina. "I mean, really, what does it matter if we fall asleep during History of Magic, it's not like it's important or anything."

"Those who do not know history's mistakes are doomed to repeat them," quoted Hermione. "I mean, how many Goblin Rebellions have their been?"

"What's Goblin Rebellions have to do with History of Magic?" asked Ron, who in a rare occasion was not actually talking with his mouth full, but that's only because his brothers hand pranked him by convincing the house elves to take his plate away after he'd only take a single bite. It'd happened a dozen times before he began to take sneaking bites from the plates surrounding his empty one.

Hermione sighed heavily, "The only reason why Gringotts is in control of the Wizarding Economy is because they won most of the Rebellions."

"What, that can't be," countered Ron. "None of the Goblin Rebellions have been successful, otherwise they'd have wands and stuff and wouldn't be kept in their bank."

"Ron, they control the economy," said Hermione. "If they wanted to, they could refuse entry to the vaults and Wizarding Britain would grind to a halt."

Ron and Hermione would spend the rest of supper arguing over the merits of studying history. Rose, on the other hand, was enjoying the show. Aunt Petunia had told her on multiple occasions, "Never argue with an idiot, they'll drag you down to their level and beat you with experience." While she'd never outright call Ron an idiot, he wasn't the smartest wizard in their year, and solidly sat at the bottom of the ten first-year Gryffindors in academic prowess. If it wasn't for Hermione nagging him to get his work done, he'd likely not be ready for the second day of classes in the morning.

* * *

><p><em>Published January 23, 2013<em>


	12. Chapter 12

The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling.

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> So, it's been a while, hasn't it? Well, let's hope I can pick up where I left off, eh? Yeah, it's short, but at least it's something, right?

* * *

><p>The rest of the week progressed as expected. Wednesday's classes were a repeat of Monday's, though with the addition of Astronomy in the aptly named Astronomy Tower from a quarter after eleven to a quarter to one.<p>

This was where Rose's planning had failed her.

Aunt Petunia had sent along her reflector telescope, which was effectively larger than Rose was, if you included the tripod, which weighed more than Rose and Hermione put together.

"How are you going to get this up to the Astronomy Tower?" asked Hermione in the period between curfew and the escorted trip to the Astronomy Tower.

"I'm not sure, I didn't know we'd be taking the class so far away from our dorms," said Rose, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Well, you can share my telescope tonight, offered Hermione, "and then we can ask Professor Sinestra what to do about your telescope during class."

"I'm halfway tempted to ask your help in taking my trunk up to the Tower, if I didn't worry we'd drop it. I know it's bigger on the inside, but how does that translate when it gets dropped"

"Why not ask one of the older students to shrink it for you?" offered Lavender, her own telescope folded up in a leather case hanging from her shoulder not unlike a purse.

"Would we be able to make it bigger when we get to the tower?" asked Rose.

Lavender shrugged, "I don't know how it works, just that it does. I mean, what's so important about this giant telescope anyway?"

Rose was confused, but Hermione smiled, "Here, let me show you." She rushed over to her own trunk and pulled out a large picture book. Rose could see a nebula on the glassy cover. "This is why. Now, these are better pictures than Rose's reflector would get, but this is why it's important to have a good telescope." She sat down next to Rose, opened the book, and flipped to a bright picture of a red nebula.

"That's beautiful," said Lavender.

"That's the Horse-Head Nebula," said Hermione. "This was taken by the American Hubble a few years ago."

"Who's Hubble?" asked Lavender.

"Not who, what," said Rose.

"Well, he was a who before his name was used for the what," corrected Hermione. She flipped a few pages in the book, and then turned it to show Lavender. It showed a black and white picture of a thin man smoking a pipe, "This is Edwin Hubble, he was an American, he died nearly fifty years ago. He was such a good astronomer, that they named this," and she pointed to the facing page, which had a picture of the Hubble Space Telescope in the cargo bay of the Space Shuttle.

"Where was that taken?" asked Lavender, already used to the fact that non-magical pictures didn't move.

Rose looked at the picture, but didn't see anything she recognized on the bit of Earth behind the telescope and shuttle, "Space, a few hundred miles up I think. About a far from we are from London, only straight up, rather than along the ground."

"What? You can't go into space, everybody knows that you can't breathe in space," said Lavender.

"See that, that's an astronaut, he's in a special suit that allows him to breathe in space, and that's how he's working on the telescope," said Hermione.

"So, that's a telescope?" asked Lavender. "Doesn't look like one, I mean, it doesn't look like ours or Rose's."

"Well, it's just bigger," said Hermione. "I mean, look at the size of the astronaut next to it, it's over forty feet long."

"Um, as much fun as this is, it's nearly time for class, and I need to find an older student to help," said Rose, getting up from her bed.

"Ask one of the prefects," said Lavender. "They should still be awake."

* * *

><p>"So, once you've gotten to the tower, just tap it with your wand and say 'termino'," instructed Percy Weasley as he handed the now six inch long telescope to Rose.<p>

"Why 'termino'?" she asked.

"It's latin, and means 'I finish'. Eventually you'll learn the proper charm to end a persistent spell effect, but until then, this should suffice. Also, if you don't end the spell within a day it'll end an it's own," the prefect explained.

"How will i get it back down?" asked Rose.

"Professor Sinestra will be able to take care of it for you. You're not the first muggle-raised to bring a high quality telescope to Hogwarts, and you won't be the last. Most likely she'll hand it off to Professor Babbling, who'll use it as a practical example of runic enchanting. You should get it back in a week," he explained. "I'd do it myself, but we don't have the time. Had you come to me with this at the beginning of the week, when you first found out you had a problem, then I'd have been able to take care of it for you, perhaps earn a few point from Professor Babbling myself. Alas the impetuousness of youth has robbed me of this opportunity."

Rose paused for a bit, trying to make sense of what Percy was saying. She failed, and eventually just smiled and thanked him, before rushing back up the stairs to display her success to the other girls.

"I knew runes were useful, but that sounds amazing," exclaimed Hermione upon hearing Rose's tale.

"Of course runes are useful, I mean, how else are you going to make a broom?" confirmed Lavender, as if it was the most obvious thing in then world.

"They weave runes, or rather cuneiform, into flying carpets," added Parvati as another example. "It's part of the reason they're illegal in Britain, because you can't replicate the enchantment with runes."

Rose put a hand on Hermione's shoulder before the inquisitive girl could begin asking questions of Parvati and Lavender, "Hermione, we need to get going. You have two years before you can even take Ancient Runes, minutes before we have to leave or be late for Astronomy is not the time to start asking questions."

"Oh," said Hermione. "You're right, we should go. It wouldn't do to be late on the first night, now would it?"

Parvati mouthed a silent 'Thanks' to Rose after Hermione turned her back, which Rose answered with a smile and a nod.

* * *

><p><em>Published November 23, 2014<em>


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